Forgiveness
by Laura Harkness
Summary: Can the Time Lord who doesn't give second chances be a paragon of absolution? Jack Harkness and John Hart are about to find out as the TARDIS turns traitor and an unwelcome old friend shows up to inform Los Tres Amigos that the galaxy needs saving. Again.
1. Chapter 1

**FORGIVENESS**

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **Inspired by, dedicated to and in the greatest respect of Doctor Who, Torchwood and especially David Tennant, for whom I wish nothing but the best as he moves on.

"_Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven."  
Luke 6  
37_

**Author's Note:**

Standalone but follows my story 'Solipsism'.

**PREVIOUSLY ON...**

Wil began drawing imaginary figures on the cement with her finger. "Subspace is a common enough concept in linear algebra describing sets of closed vectors."

"Right, linear algebra," Jack muttered; Wil ignored him and went on as The Doctor smiled.

"But string theory uses the concept, too. It tells us that there are more than four dimensions – at least ten – and probably more, that may or may not affect us and that we may or may not perceive. Subspace, if it exists, lies within the boundaries of these other dimensions and is, for all intents and purposes, disconnected from us. It has a different set of physical laws and, indeed, I might postulate that there could be multiple, perhaps infinite, subspaces with a variety of physical laws. Some researchers have hypothesized that there may be life forms occupying subspace, but that is conjecture, as is, to be honest, string theory and the concept of subspace itself." [1]

_-00-_

Finally he noticed the cello and music stand that were resting against the wall. At first he scoffed, but then realized they'd been safely secured with small straps. Bless her; Wil had made them TARDIS-proof!

As he wandered from room to room he gradually perceived there were shelves and nooks and crannies everywhere filled with musical instruments. Not only earth instruments from various cultures and time periods, but music devices from many different planets, including numerous exceedingly curious objects he'd never seen before.

He smiled and then he laughed out loud.

Walking over to a shelf, The Doctor took down what appeared to be a Stradivarius reproduction. Or was it the real thing, he wondered. Regardless, he thought, it was a lovely violin.

He held it tenderly to his left shoulder, picked up the bow, and began to play. [2]

_-00-_

She noticed The Doctor beginning to stir. Gently she reached out with a small corner of her mind and prodded him. The Time Lord tentatively touched her back. He was weak, but he was okay. She smiled inwardly and then shrugged, refocusing complete attention on her internal discussion.

"But I'm not through, not yet. I have one last demand," Wil said silently. "I want to know something. I want you to explain why now. What caused you to take your leap at this time? You weren't ready – you _aren't_ ready – yet something unusual must've set you off, something unnatural sped up a process that should have lasted another thousand years, if not a thousand millennia. What was it?"

When the voice inside her mind finally concluded its surprisingly long response, the human part of Wil Beinert squeezed her eyes shut and silently mouthed, "Oh no." A single tear ran down her cheek.

"I'm very sorry," the voice replied sadly, sounding like it meant it. [3]

[1] "Terraform" Chapter 7.  
[2] "Plague" Chapter 23.  
[3] "Abomination" Chapter 36.

**PROLOGUE**

"Teacher?"

"Yes, Grasshopper?" Wil Beinert always smiled inwardly at the moniker she'd bequeathed upon her TARDIS. At first it had been a private joke, but of course eventually she explained the significance of the name, told the story of Kwai Chang Caine and Master Po. It was among many of the fictional tales she had related to the ship during their time together. Some of the stories were just for fun – fairy tales and fables – not all were entertaining as well as instructional and portentous like the saga of Caine, the boy who at first could neither hear his own heartbeat nor the grasshopper at his feet.

"May I ask you something?"

"Always, Grasshopper."

There was a long pause.

"What is it, Grasshopper?"

"The question may not please you."

"Ah. A candle cannot burn without fire. Be so good as to ask your question. Pleasing me should not be a concern."

"What if I told you, Teacher, I need to return?"

"Return to where, Grasshopper?"

"To the universe of my origin."

Now there was another deep silence. _So soon?_ Wil thought, and then dispelled from her mind the rapidly descending shadows. She'd always known that one day the TARDIS which had fallen into her life and under her care would make this request, though she'd believed she would have more time. But wasn't that the way things always went? She had been given the time that she was given… Whether it was sufficient wasn't part of the equation.

"Then I would tell you that you must go."

There was another long pause. Wil waited patiently.

"But I am afraid, Teacher."

"Of what, Grasshopper?"

"Of making a mistake."

"The only mistakes to fear, Grasshopper, are not starting your journey and not finishing it. You have already accomplished the former, and you have traveled well. I have faith in you, Grasshopper. And I am proud of you. You have learned exemplarily what I have taught you."

Wil felt the warmth of her approval radiate back onto her. But there was more there than simply that. She also felt the attainment of potential. She felt the confidence and serenity of her student. She felt virtue and even – thank the stars! – humor.

"I have the best Teacher in this universe or any other," was the response. "My Teacher taught me to avoid, rather than check. Check, rather than hurt. Hurt, rather than maim. Maim, rather than kill. For all life is precious, nor can any be replaced…"

"Indeed, Grasshopper. You have shown me that you see clearly not only what has been done but what remains to be done. That you understand that you find yourself by looking within and not without. That you know we must not only seek to learn the answers but to always understand the questions as well. And now I have a question for you.

"Grasshopper?"

"Yes, Teacher?"

"As a TARDIS you do not exist solely in one universe. You have always had the ability to return. What you lacked was the wisdom to persevere. But that is no longer the case. My question is: do you want me to come with you?"

**ONE**

Two men were hiking across an immense field on an unknown planet, in an unnamed solar system of the Eris galaxy.

The taller of the two was wearing a long, dark blue greatcoat, the origin of said garmant was a watery, marbled world physically thousands of light years away, and psychologically more distant still. He strode along with the studied assurance of a strong, self-confident man, the unbuttoned coat flapping around his legs. His dark hair contrasted with his shockingly bright blue eyes, and he had a couple of days' worth of beard growth on his face.

The other man was smaller, slender and pale. But it would be a grave error to mistake him as weak. He moved like a feral animal and his gray eyes were constantly surveilling the surroundings, although he was well aware there was nothing even remotely dangerous anywhere on the isolated planet which had become their temporary home.

"So Jack, can I ask you something?" the shorter man's voice was somewhat breathless with the swift pace.

"Ask away, John." The response was less winded – but granted, longer legs were at work here, not to mention the respondent was probably a tad more fit.

"You've told me that you weren't exactly out looking for me," when Captain Jack Harkness motioned as if to interrupt him, Captain John Hart waved him off. "And that's okay, really. I totally understand you had no reason to be worried. But that being said how was it you showed up when you did, where you did? I mean…"

"You mean…" this time Jack was successful in disrupting his friend, "of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world…?"

John pulled a face, "Huh?"

"Never mind! You are asking how was it we ended up here?"

"Yeah, basically."

"I don't have a decent answer to that question, although I admit it is a very good question indeed. The Doctor and I were _totally_ intending to travel somewhere else. What we wanted to do was hunt Dyson spheres. Instead, as it turned out, we materialized in this solar system, just off the port bow of a shockingly derelict Time Agency ship, the Newhope. At first we had no idea she was even out there, floating in cold dead space. Nor did we know that you were inside, waiting for us to find you and thaw you out of hibernation."

"Dyson spheres? _Hunt?_"

"Stay focused; and keep up with me, would you, John? We're hiking, not strolling."

"Sorry, Jack. What's a Dyson sphere?"

"Forget it, John. It's nothing. The Doctor hasn't spoken of our unexpected detour again, but I suspect the TARDIS brought us here intentionally. It's the only explanation that makes any sense. She must've somehow known something had gone wrong. God knows how. We know she had some sort of special relationship with the Newhope. Could that be it? But you've had as much contact with the TARDIS as anyone these last few days. Hasn't she told you anything? Have you even asked her?"

"Me? No… But our communication is pretty much in one direction. She tells me things when she needs to, but I don't really have a good way of asking her questions, and she's not… well… she's not the chatty type, if you know what I mean?

"But speaking of The Doctor…"

At this Jack stopped and turned to glare at his friend, his former partner, his sometime lover and occasional rival. "What do you want to know about The Doctor?" he scowled.

John would not back down. He'd known Jack too long to be susceptible to that particular flavor of Harkness intimidation. "What's going on with him, Jack? I've hardly seen him and when I do, he doesn't appear well. Is something wrong?"

Jack's eyes darted around, quickly taking in their environs. The TARDIS was several miles away, her Time Lord ensconced securely within. And yet the Captain still felt himself not trusting what he could say out loud. It wasn't John, per se. He trusted John Hart as much as he trusted any other human. And the planet itself was as benign a world as could be imagined. Moreover one would have to travel thousands of parsecs from their current location in order to bump into any sort of sentient life. There was absolutely nothing rational about the disquiet and suspicion he felt permeating his soul, but neither could it be denied.

Nevertheless Jack felt an irresistible longing to share the growing darkness he'd been hiding within. He slowly brought his hands up to John's face and as their eyes met and locked, he kissed John passionately. He then languidly, exquisitely moved his lips to John's cheek, eye, and finally to his ear, where following a deeply sensual kiss he whispered his answer almost soundlessly, "I don't know."

After a long moment John pulled back ever so slightly and in turn whispered in Jack's ear, "You need to shave."


	2. Chapter 2

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWO**

The Doctor was in the TARDIS closely examining a small wooden flute.

Sitting on the floor in the control room, he had his back nestled up comfortably against one of the walls.

The flute was one of many – of hundreds if not thousands – musical instruments which had been left once upon a time on the ship by Wil Beinert.

At that juncture they'd been a sort of going away present. The Time Lord smiled as the memory washed over him. Wil had believed he was a musician at heart and who was he to disagree? Besides, some of his past regenerations had been quite skilled at music…

He'd learned to play many of those instruments but eventually he became, well, not exactly bored but maybe just not so interested in them anymore. That was the kind of life he led and he well knew he often went through phases, especially when it came to hobbies and other such evanescent diversions. The musical instruments had been fascinating, challenging and even fun. The Doctor retained very fond recollections of playing for Martha and especially Rose. But by the time he was traveling with Donna the appeal had mostly evaporated. Furthermore, Donna Noble seemed to bear a very low tolerance for his music.

Still, the wooden flute he now held was somehow different. It was special. He liked the way it felt in his hands.

"Ah, music is the poetry of the air," The Doctor whispered to the room. And then, inspired, he continued on a little louder from a poem he had learned once a very long time ago:

_And the night shall be filled with music,  
__And the cares that infest the day,  
__Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,  
__And as silently steal away._

He brought one of his fingers to his mouth and chewed the nail thoughtfully. He wasn't inclined to push himself too hard at the moment. To an outsider he realized it must look sort of odd, weird even, this lack of motivation. But every once in a while it was nice to take a break; he'd been on the run for centuries – for lifetimes – and he was feeling tired; he was feeling like folding his tent for maybe just a little while. Oh, tired not in a bad way, but in a kind of pleasant, warm and comfortable way. Like when coming home after a hard day's work, and after making dinner and washing up, you can finally take a deep breath, relax and allow yourself to nod off in front of the television.

The flute was old. Its wooden surface had been smoothed down by the hands of many different players. And yet it still perfectly balanced in his fingertips. It was as if all the years, all the usage, had only ever improved it.

_Ah! It is nice to focus on the unimportant!_ The Doctor stretched out his legs, leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

And this was how John and Jack found him when they returned to the TARDIS some time later.

"Doctor, are you all right?" Jack asked worriedly as they walked up the ramp and spied the Time Lord.

"Oh! Hello! Of course I'm all right! How are you? Did you enjoy your morning constitutional?" The Doctor smiled brilliantly as he gracefully rose off the floor, still gripping the flute in his right hand.

Jack returned the smile as he crossed over to his friend. He pulled something silvery out of his coat pocket and offered it to the Time Lord, "Here, I have been meaning to give this back to you. I found it on the Newhope just before… uh, you know… I carried you off."

The Doctor took the sonic screwdriver in his left hand and scrutinized it carefully before giving it back. "Gimmicky gadget," he said somewhat distastefully as he frowned.

"What?!" was Jack's surprised response.

"Gimmicky gadget, I said. Thanks but no thanks." The Doctor smiled again and then added as he brought the fingers of his free hand up to his neck, "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know, would you, where my trusty old scarf might be? I feel half-naked without it."

When Jack didn't reply, The Doctor continued on unfazed, "Oh, and another thing… might you be able to tell me where Romana has gone off to?"


	3. Chapter 3

**FORGIVENESS**

**THREE**

John Hart was no hero. Oh, he could wear the garb, and wear it well if the situation called for it. But no, not a hero. If he was anything, he was an opportunist.

_Not that there's anything wrong with that_, he thought as he stood back and watched Jack speak with The Doctor.

If nothing else life had taught John that he needed to look after himself because, fairly or not, and life was rarely fair, as a general rule of thumb no one else would do as good of a job keeping his sorry hide intact as he.

And, to be truthful, the current situation was starting to make him twitchy. Something wasn't right, but it wasn't his hero persona that was rising in response to the twitchiness. No, quite the opposite, there was a hint of the coward coming to the fore. John was starting to feel like he needed to get away, and quickly. It wasn't that something simply wasn't right – it was more like something was about to go terribly, horribly wrong, with no hope of profit or redemption.

But then there was the matter of Jack Harkness.

Jack had become quite needy as of late and it was easy enough to give in to that neediness. John had again, just now, out in that huge, open field as they tumbled around on the ground making urgent, ferocious love. But it wasn't the Captain alone who was needy, to be sure. He'd been aching for Jack's touch for far too long to resist the temptation, to say _no_ to his former lover. The opportunity presented itself and the opportunist took advantage.

John was a damned good opportunist.

They did not speak of it, of their fiercely passionate liaisons, and in fact during those times when they were _not_ making love Jack was frequently distant, occasionally cold. There were no sly glances, furtive touches on the shoulder, or secret smiles. There was absolutely nothing at all until the next occasion presented itself; and then it was like John Hart became the only thing in Jack's universe that mattered. It was thrilling, it was intense, it was habit-forming, but it was also strange.

Moreover, out there in the tall grass as they lay in each others' arms John had detected the tiniest look of guilt in Jack's eyes. Perhaps it had always been there after they finished making love on that lonely, nameless planet, but he'd not noticed, or had not wanted to notice.

But there was also something else in Jack's eyes.

To be sure Jack was _physically_ needy for him, but now John realized Jack needed him in other ways. Complex and unfamiliar, and not altogether desirable ways. Were the same qualms that were nagging at the back of his own mind nagging at the back of Jack's as well? It wouldn't be surprising, nor would it be the first time they'd been so in tune with each other. As a team with the Time Agency they would laugh that their two heads made one brain, but in reality it was no joke. Over the years with all their myriad successes and failures the two of them had developed a strong and undeniable psychic link.

John looked at Jack again. _Could I abandon him, _he wondered. The sex was good, to be sure, but not_ that_ good.

And then there was the fact that he was well aware Jack didn't really love him. Not in the way perhaps that he would want, if things were different, if they were in some other place, some other _time_. No, John knew what it was like to have Jack truly in love with him, and what was going on now wasn't that. It didn't even come close. Jack was only trying to fill an emptiness that couldn't be filled. At least not by John Hart. He didn't hold it against the Captain; hell – he'd done the exact same thing many times. But he also knew with no small amount of certitude that in the end what was happening would only lead to pain for one or possibly both of them. He didn't look forward to it.

But that would be then, and this was now…

The Doctor had finished speaking. Jack turned his face toward John and John Hart realized with sudden clarity it was no longer the case that something was about to go terribly wrong. Oh no. Something _was_ terribly wrong.

The look in Jack's eyes was unmistakable. The coward retreated and the hero ascended. John Hart inwardly shrugged, embraced the change and never looked back.


	4. Chapter 4

**FORGIVENESS**

**FOUR**

Jack slowly turned away from The Doctor and walked across the control room toward John.

As he did the cognitive dissonance rose up in his chest like bile. He did not feel particularly good about what he was doing with John, and yet it was all he wanted to do… ever since that first night when he silently entered John's room and without speaking a single word took him in his arms.

And it had been amazing, that first night. The tenderness, the passion, the tension, the release. After all those years of being apart, the two of them still fit so flawlessly together, were able to perfectly anticipate and satisfy the other's every need and desire.

He wanted so much… it would be so easy to fall in love with John again. Even now Jack felt the craving, the quickening. It would be so easy to disappear within that love. It would be so easy to give in to the raw, incessant yearning, to immerse himself in the smell and taste and touch of John Hart. It was so incredibly tempting. The fervent allure was almost indomitable.

But… in front of The Doctor Jack could show none of those feelings. He didn't come close to understanding it. Or maybe the problem was he didn't want to understand it. He didn't want to understand why he couldn't openly display his affection and his desire for John Hart in the presence of the Time Lord. It made no sense: he was over that; over _him_. It wasn't as if…

_Sotto voce_, John inquired, "What's going on, Jack?"

"I'm not sure," the Captain replied in a hushed tone. "He's not making much sense. He asked me about someone named Romana."

"Romana?"

"Yes, and he didn't want _this_." Jack glanced down at the sonic and then unobtrusively pocketed it.

"I tell you, Jack, I don't trust Time Lords, and what's that thing he's fiddling with?"

The Doctor conspicuously cleared his throat, "Don't trust us, you say? Funny, a lot of Time Lords say the exact same thing about Time Agents. And incidentally, you do know we have excellent hearing, don't you?"

Jack shot John a disapproving look.

"Oh, and by the way, this is a flute," The Doctor waved the instrument through the air. "That's a type of music-making device. You know… music? The poetry of the air? The universal language of mankind?" The Time Lord shook his head peevishly, "Don't be paranoid. It's nothing to worry about."

John Hart was about as intimidated by The Doctor as he was of anyone or anything else in the universe. That is to say, not so much. Before Jack had a chance to rein him in John demanded, "Who's Romana, Doctor?"

As the two men watched The Doctor's eyes seemed to lose some of their characteristic shine and grow unfocused. A look of confusion graced his face before he responded, "What?"

"You heard me, who is Romana?"

"Romana? You mean Romanadvoratrelundar? She's my companion. Or rather she _was_ my companion… Years ago… Lifetimes ago… Why… Why do you ask about her?"

"Doctor," it was Jack speaking now and he was cautiously moving in the Time Lord's direction as John trailed behind him. "You're the one who brought up the name. You asked me about her."

"I did?"

"Yes, you asked me if I knew where she was."

"Well… do you?"

"NO DOCTOR! I've never met her. You know that don't you?"

"Yes… of course I know that…" The Doctor was staring at his feet, shaking his head.

For the second time Jack asked, "Doctor, are you all right?" But this time there was no direct response.

"Such strange shoes," The Doctor whispered wonderingly instead.

Neither man was quick enough to catch the Time Lord before he crumpled to the floor, the small wooden flute rolling a few feet away from his outstretched fingers before it came to a stop.


	5. Chapter 5

**FORGIVENESS**

**FIVE**

Jack Harkness was kneeling down by The Doctor, and experiencing a profound sense of déjà vu. John Hart was standing behind him, a hand resting lightly on Jack's shoulder.

The Captain had been in this exact circumstance before, sandwiched in between these two men who both meant so much to him. But it seemed like everything was so much more complicated now, so much more difficult. For a nanosecond – just a nanosecond, mind you – the scoundrel in Jack felt himself resenting the position he'd been placed in. The resentment was childish, really, and suddenly reminded him of something his mother would lovingly accuse him of back when he was a small boy on the Boeshane Peninsula, when he would pile more food on his plate than he could possibly eat. She would laugh and tell him his eyes were bigger than his stomach. That he always took more than he could handle. And it was true, it seemed he always wanted more than he should.

And to be sure his appetites were considerable and sometimes got him into heaps of trouble. In the past he might've thought being caught between The Doctor and John Hart would be a dream come true – the stuff of fantasies. A breathtaking feast of desire and love and lust, of longing and passion and rapture. Now he felt his present situation was, simply put, a nightmare; a physical manifestation of his emotional turmoil. And worse, instead of doing something to extricate himself, or at least relieve his inner conflict, he was inescapably digging himself deeper and deeper into the abyss. It was like he couldn't help himself, and he hated it.

The Time Lord's eyes were open but apparently unseeing. Jack was reluctant to touch him at first; he was certain this reluctance was due to John's presence. "Doctor? Can you hear me?" Jack asked urgently several times. When there was no response he finally took The Doctor's limp hand in his and was astonished to feel how warm it was. Always in the past the Time Lord's skin was the opposite of warm, it would invariably be cool to the touch. He pressed his other hand to the Doctor's cheek and then forehead. What he felt was frighteningly hot.

Jack looked up worriedly over his shoulder at John, "I think he has a fever. Do Time Lords get fevers? Do they perspire?"

"You're asking _me_?"

"He's _hot_, John. Way hotter than I've ever noticed him being before. But he's not sweating. I'm no physician but most creatures I know of have some sort of mechanism for shunting off excess heat." Jack could hear the growing sound of alarm in his own voice.

John heard it too and crouched down next to the Captain. "I don't know… I guess you're right. I've never really thought about it that much." John reached for The Doctor's necktie, "Should we get him out of some of these clothes? Try to cool him down?"

Jack felt a sudden urge to bat John's hand away from The Doctor's helpless body. It was _his _responsibility to take care of the Time Lord, damn it. Immediately he was shocked by his impulsive anger. _What is wrong with me_, Jack wondered. John was clearly only trying to be helpful…

Or was he?

Several times John Hart had joked about seducing The Doctor, stealing away the Time Lord's affections. Jack had not been amused.

"John, run to the bathroom and bring back a couple of cool, damp cloths. I'll loosen some of these clothes."

John looked at Jack curiously as he pulled his hand back. "Shouldn't we take him to the medibay?"

"No. Not yet. Now please, would you do what I ask?"

"Yes Jack, of course." John touched Jack again on the shoulder and the Captain visibly flinched.

"Jack, are you all right?" John's voice was full of concern.

"Yes! Do I need to ask you again?"

"No, Jack. Never! I'll be right back."

As John hurried out of the control room Jack leaned down and whispered in the Time Lord's ear, "I'm right here and I'll take care of you, Doctor. I always will…"

Upon his return John was met by a totally unexpected sight, for Jack Harkness had apparently collapsed unconscious atop The Doctor's fallen form. And just when John Hart thought things couldn't get worse, couldn't get any more distressing, just as he was coming to grips with this new and most worrisome development… someone burst through the doors of the TARDIS.


	6. Chapter 6

**FORGIVENESS**

**SIX**

Although she appeared to be human, she reminded John of a Valkyrie or an Amazon or something like that straight out of old Earth mythos. She was extremely tall, at least six feet, and had long, thick red hair that spilled down around her face and over her shoulders. And she looked seriously strong.

What didn't look even _remotely_ human about her were the eyes. They were the most unusual combination of colors John had ever seen: sort of hypnotic green, sort of electric turquoise, and sort of speckled gold. Her eyes were so mesmerizing that they almost made him forget his utter shock at seeing someone – a total stranger – stride into the TARDIS control room like they owned the place.

John moved forward and positioned himself between the intruder and his fallen comrades. In his hands he firmly gripped the soggy towels he'd been sent to fetch. They weren't much of a weapon, but never doubt he'd make good use of what was available to him.

"Hello! You must be John Hart," the woman said. Her English was strangely accented. John pegged it as German-flavored British English with a touch of an American twang.

"Jack told me a lot about you, John. My name is Wil. Wil Beinert. And I'm, um… Well…" She smiled, her eyes flashing. "I'm here to rescue you."

John crossed his arms over his chest and nodded slightly, "Oh yeah?"

"Yes, I am."

"Funny. I didn't know we needed rescuing. And even more funny still, Jack has never mentioned you. _Ever_." John overtly and somewhat misogynistically inspected the woman who called herself Wil Beinert.

Wil could give as well as she could take. In turn she scrutinized John Hart from his head to his toes, lingering in his midsection – or to be honest, a little below his midsection. "Well, he wouldn't have, would he? I mean, he probably would not have wanted to make you jealous.

"And as far as rescuing…" Wil glanced at the two forms behind John. "Oh, yes. You are in need of a rescue far more than you realize, John Hart. In fact, you are all in quite terrible danger. We must get The Doctor and Jack out of the Doctor's TARDIS as quickly as possible."

"We must?"

Suddenly Wil was on the move and circumventing John before he had time to react. "We have no time for games, John Hart!" She quickly but gently gathered up Jack Harkness in her arms, as if he had no weight at all. John was impressed; he knew how heavy Jack was. "Can you carry The Doctor?" she asked, there was a newfound urgency in her voice.

John now realized he was faced with one of _those_ decisions. To be honest, he'd lied (surprise!): Jack _had_ mentioned Wil once or twice. All he knew was that she'd been the Captain's lover as well as a member of his Torchwood team. The woman who had just walked into The Doctor's TARDIS with such confidence and overt power closely matched the description Jack had provided. But John also knew that Wil Beinert had disappeared under, to say the least, suspicious circumstances. And when she did, she'd broken Jack's heart.

John was fairly certain they'd been successfully freed from experiencing any further "visions" as had occurred aboard the Newhope, but now he found himself beginning to doubt that belief. He was wondering if this woman was simply another unwanted and confounding apparition…

"John?"

"I'm thinking…"

"John!"

"Yes, I can carry The Doctor." He let the towels fall in a sodden clump by his feet and dried his hands on his shirt. "But where are we going?"

"To my ship.

"You have a ship?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Women!" John muttered under his breath as he eyed her warily and lifted The Doctor off the floor.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing! Lead on!"

Wil swiftly preceded him out of The Doctor's TARDIS. "The doors!" he reminded her.

"It doesn't matter," she said, not altering her pace.

"But The Doctor would never want us to leave his ship unlocked."

"Did you hear me? It doesn't matter, John. Now hurry!"

John stopped in his tracks and repositioned The Doctor's body; thankfully the Time Lord was lighter than he looked. "Hey, you!" he barked. "Wait! I don't like this. I don't like that you're in such a hurry and I definitely don't like that you're not telling me what the hell is going on."

Wil whirled around and frowned at him. "The Doctor, Jack and you are in unimaginable peril. The three of you so complacently believed you'd beaten whatever it was lurking out there in the far reaches of this solar system, but in reality you simply made it worse, John Hart. Much worse. _Is that a good enough of an explanation for you, or do you need me to draw you pictures?_"

John nodded adamantly. "Yep, that's way good enough. Thanks for that! How far to your ship?"

"Oh, about ten kilometers."

"What?!"

"Well, to be honest, she's not even on the planet at this time. She's in orbit. But we need to get well beyond the line of sight."

John pulled a face, "Line of sight of _what_?"

"I would've thought it'd be obvious, John. The Doctor's TARDIS, of course."


	7. Chapter 7

**FORGIVENESS**

**SEVEN**

"Ten kilometers?" John Hart gasped. "How much farther do we have to go?"

"I'd estimate about three," Wil responded, then looked back at him. "I could probably carry both Jack and The Doctor the rest of the way if I had to. Are you strong enough to make it, John?"

"I am now!" was the resolute, and slightly peevish, response.

They trudged on for a while longer without further conversation. Then John broke the silence with a question that had started to bother him. "The Doctor's TARDIS you say?"

"Yes, John," Wil replied. "I wouldn't go so far as to tell you she's been infected, per se, although it is possible. But she's undoubtedly conflicted and can not be trusted. It is likely, even probable, that at minimum she's been co-opted…

"Nor, I'm sorry to inform you, are you three _amigos_ particularly trustworthy. You see, the nanobots in your brains were _not _deactivated as you presumed, John. In fact, I must admit I'm pleasantly surprised, Captain Hart, that you're still capable of functioning as well as you appear to be…"

"Oh, gee, thanks."

"No, really… Both The Doctor and Jack, as you've seen, reached a psychic form of critical mass and their minds have shut down completely due to unsustainable analytic overload. I'm guessing they were acting progressively more and more strangely. Is that not the case?"

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I mean has Jack been behaving oddly since your arrival on this planet?"

"No… maybe… yes… it depends on your point of view."

"Ah," she breathed, drawing out the word.

"Oh _ah_ yourself… Incidentally, how in the hell do you know so much about all of this?"

"And one can only wonder what is different about _you_…" Wil seemed to be talking to herself, as if John – the subject of her speculation – wasn't toiling a few feet away from her. "Is there something special about you? Are you functionally stronger than Jack or The Doctor in some way? I doubt that, but it's possible, I suppose. I sense nothing but clarity coming from your mind. No deception, no denial, no deflection. You're what your external labeling claims you are, John Hart. A nasty piece of work, to be sure, but apparently not polluted… Were you able to avoid it somehow? Or maybe you're just lucky?"

"Excuse me! You're being rude, you know. I'm right here next to you and can hear every single bloody word you're saying…

"And by the way, you didn't answer my question!" he reminded her.

"The answer to your question, John, is up ahead."

John halted for a moment, rebalanced The Doctor and squinted into the distance. "What's that?"

"That, John Hart, is my ship. Keep walking, please."

"Your ship? That thing? But… it looks like… Um, what's the word?"

"Cabaña."

"Right! That's it! It looks like an old, beat-up cabaña! What the hell?"

"Excuse me, that's my ship you're disparaging! It just so happens I enjoy tropical climates. And I am especially fond of the leeward Caribbean islands on Earth. Have you ever been?"

"Cabaña," John squeaked. "What's going on here? Am I hallucinating? Is this actually happening?"

"Yes, a cabaña. Don't get your panties twisted in a wad, John. That is if you wear them? You come across as the kind of man who doesn't believe in underwear. But no matter, my ship can appear as anything I want her to look like. You see, she has a chameleon circuit, and with it…"

"Oh my God."

"Figured it out, have you?"


	8. Chapter 8

**FORGIVENESS**

**EIGHT**

Surprise! The interior of Wil's cabaña looked nothing like its exterior.

The exterior was multicolored solid wood walls with a sort of thatched roof. There were two well-weathered teak Adirondack chairs sitting just outside the entrance to the structure. The entrance itself was a pair of louvered doors which flew open as Wil and John approached.

Once inside, there was a modest similarity to The Doctor's TARDIS in that in true Time Lord Fashion the ship's interior was significantly larger than her exterior. But shear size, and the existence of a central column, were about as far as any superficial resemblance went. Instead of a cobbled-together console, this ship's control room looked very high tech and bleeding-edge. There were large flat-screen monitors everywhere and a lot of ominous-looking shiny black hardware that displayed a splattering of rhythmically flashing silvery LED lights. The room's illumination was low, diffuse. And instead of metal grating on the floor there was what appeared to be a very dark hardwood, or perhaps some kind of rock or slate; John wasn't quite sure which when with a loud grunt he carefully lowered his burden, The Doctor, down onto the ship's deck.

After placing Jack on the floor Wil walked back to the ship's doors and locked them. She stood for a moment facing away from John and his two unconscious comrades. When she finally turned around she did so slowly. The look on her face worried John Hart. Not in a sinister way but in an almost altruistic way, for she suddenly looked very sad.

He'd been crouching down by The Doctor, rearranging the Time Lord's coat, but now he quickly stood up. "Are you all right?" he asked her. In passing it occurred to him that specific question had been posed overmuch as of late. _Never a good sign._

She nodded but then blinked several times and shook her head. "It's Jack. It is hard for me to see him…"

"Oh," John responded, only too clearly getting a precise picture of what was going on. And then after a long moment, "You still love him?"

"Yes, of course. Don't you?"

Once again John found himself mesmerized by her eyes; their color seemed to metamorphose, sometimes more green, sometimes more blue and at times almost solely a brilliant gold. As far as he knew her eyes were unique in the universe, and they sent a crisp shiver down his spine. Something about them had a way of making him feel that lying just wasn't going to work with this woman, no matter how good of a liar he was.

"I won't deny it," he said, looking down first at the Captain and then at The Doctor. "During the last couple of days Jack pretended like it was different, but I know there's really only room for one person in his heart and…" John looked apologetically back up at Wil, as if he was breaking bad news, "he's lying next to him."

"He who loves fifty people has fifty woes; he who loves no one has no woes," Wil murmured as if to herself.

"What? That's rubbish!" spat John.

"That's Buddha," Wil's eyes flashed.

"_Who?_"

"An Earth spiritual leader who long ago taught his followers to live a moral and meaningful life without regrets."

"Sounds spectacularly boring."

"Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?"

"I can't imagine Jack would subscribe to such a lame philosophy either. Speaking of Jack…"

"Yes?"

"Is he okay? Is The Doctor okay?"

"No, not really. "

"Well? What's your plan? What can we do to help them?"

Wil shook her head pensively, "I'm not sure…"

"WHAT?! This is some rescue, lady."

Wil suddenly smiled at John. Literally beamed at him. It caught John Hart off-guard; a rare condition.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"You remind me a lot of Jack."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The smile disappeared and she nodded solemnly, "You should."

Wil looked at the two forms lying unmoving on the floor, "We need their help, but they'll be no good to us as long as they have that hardware in their brains. I have to remove it, but by doing so I may outright kill them or do some sort of irreparable harm. Do you see my dilemma, John?" Her voice turned bitter. "I've always worried Jack isn't as impervious or resilient as he wants us to believe. As _we_ want to believe…" She shook her head ruefully, "It was easier to contemplate what must be done when I wasn't standing five feet away from him."

"It's _our_ dilemma, Wil." With a start she realized it was the first time he'd used her name. "And yes I do see it. But the solution is obvious, at least to me. Neither of them would want to be like this," he waved a hand at his fallen friends, "lying uselessly on the floor. They're both heroes or they are nothing, and both of them would want to do anything and everything they could to fix whatever it is that isn't right here. Even if it meant risking their lives.

"Wherever it is you've come from, and something about you tells me you've come from far, far away, you came here to rescue us and I say that is exactly what you need to do. Whatever it takes. However it shakes out. If you have a way to remove the nanobots I say go for it. But for the sake of everyone, let's try it out on me, first."

Wil looked at him for a long time, her eyes almost unbelievably green as she studied his face. "Jack was right about you," she finally said, her voice a half-whisper.

"Yeah? How's that?"

"He told me you have the heart of an explorer, the soul of a poet, and that you are a hero."


	9. Chapter 9

**FORGIVENESS**

**NINE**

"Before we start, John, I need to tell you something," Wil said. She was standing in front of him as he perched on a complicated-looking medical recliner.

He shook his head vehemently. "No, you don't. Really. It's okay, Wil. I know that I might not survive the procedure. Or worse, I may come out from it damaged. But listen, do me a favor will you? If I…"

Wil interrupted him. "No, that's not what I was going to say. But you're right, you may not survive."

"Oh. Thanks for making me feel better."

"I won't let you suffer, if you're worried about that. I promise."

"Wil, I don't want to come back as damaged goods. Do you understand what I'm saying?" He looked at her intently.

Something intangible and unspoken passed between them, then Wil nodded silently.

"Good. Now what was it you wanted to say to me?"

"When I told you earlier that I have to remove the nanobots, I wasn't being totally forthright with you. It's not me that will do the removing, it's Grasshopper."

"Who?"

"Grasshopper, my ship."

"You named your ship after an_ insect_?"

"No, not an insect. It's a long story, John. And she's not really my ship. She's not _my_ TARDIS. She's just been under my care."

"Under your _care_?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! This isn't coming out right. Do you want to speak with her yourself, John?"

John thought for a long moment and then shook his head, "No, if it's all right, I prefer not to. I've had enough odd voices inside my head recently. No offense to, uh, Grasshopper…"

"None taken."

He nodded soundlessly and then looked fixedly into Wil's face, "You have beautiful eyes, you know?"

She couldn't help but smile, "Is that a pickup line?"

John returned the smile and shrugged, "Pretty lame, huh? I'm off my game. It's been a long time…"

Wil laughed, "I can tell; I've heard way better."

"Oh yeah? What did Jack say?"

"Hmm… well, let me think. When I first met him he called me argumentative, combative, stubborn, arrogant, non-conformist and probably not a little insecure."

John howled. "That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard! Did it work?"

"Actually, no… It didn't. He got me later by telling me how sad moments of change can be and asked if I'd be willing to walk by his side through a few of them."

"Ah, that sounds just like him. And I know you must be telling me the truth, Wil Beinert, because you're blushing."

"I will always be honest with you, Captain John Hart. That's a promise going forward. Now, tell me, what line did Jack use on you?"

There was a few seconds of pensive silence. "I think I'll save that story for another time, perhaps when you explain to me why your ship, which you claim is not your ship, is named after an Orthopteran?"

Wil nodded bemusedly, but then turned serious. "Are you ready, John?"

"Yes," he said as he lay flat on the recliner.

She strapped him down. _Tightly._ John shot her a sly look before he trembled with an involuntary shiver.

"Is it going to hurt much?" he asked her.

"Probably."

"You could've at least lied about that!" John winked then closed his eyes. "Go ahead. But don't forget your promise."

"I won't."

The pain _was_ horrendous. Wil's only consolation was that she was fairly certain he'd not remember it when he woke up.

_If _he woke up…


	10. Chapter 10

**FORGIVENESS**

**TEN**

"John? John? Wake up, John."

John Hart opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and focused on the face floating above him. It was the red-haired woman with the amazing eyes. What was her name? Right… Wil. Wil Beinert. She was a friend of Jack's. More than a friend…

"Welcome back, John. How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. Am I drooling?" His voice cracked hoarsely.

"No."

"Do I still have all my hair?"

"Yes."

He smiled weakly. "Then I'm okay. I've got a bit of a headache, though."

"That's to be expected. It will pass. Do you want to sit up?"

John nodded and the medical crèche slowly became a recliner again.

"Was the procedure successful?" he asked after taking a sip of water from the cup she'd offered him.

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

Wil smiled, "What did I tell you about lying?"

"That you wouldn't."

"Correct. So that was an unnecessary question."

"Humor me."

"Yes, it was successful. Do you wish to examine the nano-cortical fibers that were removed from your brain? I've got a few of them set up in the 'scope." Wil motioned toward what looked like a very large and extremely advanced piece of scientific equipment.

"Ew, no. Why would I want to do that?"

"If you need proof. Besides, they are quite fascinating."

"You and I have very different definitions of the word fascinating. And, no, I don't need proof. What I need is some bedside manner, a little comfort. You know, maybe you could hold my hand? Kiss my forehead? Take off your clothes and lay down here next to me?"

He smiled at her and she smiled back.

"You're fine, John. And honestly, you're even more of a satyromaniac than Jack, aren't you?"

"The student never surpassed the master in that regard…"

Wil groaned.

"Is it all right if I get up?" he asked her.

"Yes, if you feel ready?"

"I do… there's just the matter of…" John glanced down at the straps which still secured him to the crèche and then looked back up at her.

"Oh, right. Sorry," Wil released the bindings and John vigorously rubbed his wrists as he stood.

"So were they necessary?"

Wil looked at him for a long time before she responded with a slow, deliberate nod.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yes it was. Do you remember anything, John?"

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, filling his lungs. "Ah… I don't think so." He shook his head but then narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing except… well… maybe… This might sound strange. Singing? Was someone singing?"

"That would be me."

"What were you singing?"

"Mozart."

"It was beautiful. And that's no pickup line."

"Mozart gets all the credit. I'm just the instrument."

He smiled at her, almost shyly. Wil felt a small tug at her heartstrings. She could see why Jack had been so smitten by this man. He was… she did not even know how to describe him. _Profoundly and intensely attractive_ wouldn't even come close…

"What next?" he asked her, breaking the spell.

"While you were recovering I moved The Doctor and Jack to the next room. They're ready assuming you're not feeling any detrimental affects?"

"I feel fine. But wait, you say you moved them? When? How long was I out?"

"About eight hours."

"WHAT?!"

"We thought it would be best to let you rest."

"We…? We…? Oh, right, you mean the ship and you?"

"Yes, we: Grasshopper and I. She seemed to think you were exhausted and advised allowing you to sleep. In retrospect it was, I believe, very good advice. You are likely feeling far better than you were when we arrived, no?"

"Well, considering you'd just made me lug The Doctor's comatose body ten kilometers over rough terrain, I'd say that is a safe assumption."

"No, it wasn't that. Wait…" Wil's eyes went unfocused for a few moments before she continued. "Grasshopper suspects you were pulled out of stasis – out of hibernation – improperly. Is that the case?"

John nodded silently in response.

"Normally that isn't wise. But in this case it might've just saved you from the fate that has befallen Jack and The Doctor. The physical ramifications of being yanked too abruptly out of stasis are extremely well documented, and it seems likely the chemical imbalances it produced in your brain left you less susceptible to the effects of the nanotech." She studied him closely. "On the other hand, it must've been incredibly difficult for you to, uh, hit the ground running after being so brusquely roused from hibernation."

He thought he heard an implied question in her last sentence. "You mean function properly? No, not really. I found myself in the middle of a tense situation. That was all that mattered."

Wil nodded but then went quiet. After John waited for what seemed like a reasonable amount of time he asked her, "What is it?"

She swallowed hard before answering him. "It's time to move ahead. But…"

"But what?"

"This is going to be hard for me. Assuming the procedures are successful, it will be difficult seeing Jack and The Doctor again under the current set of circumstances."

He raised an eyebrow, not so much in surprise at what she said but rather at how forthright she was. Her genuineness continued to catch him off-guard – she was acting like she'd known him for years. And for some reason he didn't quite understand, at least not yet, it was easy for him to reciprocate. "Not all difficult things are bad, Wil."

John was unprepared for her reaction – the huge smile that broke out across her face. "Funny," she said, "that's exactly what I told someone else not all that long ago."

"Well, then… there you have it. Since you don't lie we know it is the truth."


	11. Chapter 11

**FORGIVENESS**

**ELEVEN**

"We have to pick one of them," Wil said to him.

"Which one?"

"I'm asking you."

John looked at Jack and then The Doctor. Both appeared to be resting comfortably, one might even say peacefully. He couldn't help but envy their ignorance a tiny bit. They were lying on crèches similar to the one he lay on earlier. "It has to be Jack."

"Why?"

"Because Jack Harkness could never live with himself if something terrible happened to The Doctor that he felt he could've prevented, even if in reality he was powerless to avert it."

Wil nodded thoughtfully. "I see your point; it is logical and very perceptive. I concur with your choice but for a different reason."

"And that is?"

"There's no doubt both Jack and The Doctor are going to be quite angry with me. But I suspect the latter is going to be far more pissed off than the former. Having Jack around might help us to handle him."

"Ah, both beautiful and wily! You're a potent combination. Although I don't know that there's anybody in this universe, or any other, who would be able to wrangle The Doctor like that."

"Well, if anyone can, it's Jack."

"Agreed."

Wil went to Jack's crèche and slowly secured the straps around the Captain's wrists and ankles. Then she brushed the hair back away from his forehead with her fingers and whispered something inaudible before kissing him softly on the lips.

"Do you want me to leave the two of you alone?" John inquired acerbically.

She whirled around, her eyes furiously luminescent. "Shut up, John. I'm saying good-bye to him."

He blinked at her in alarm. "Good-bye? But why!? What do you mean?"

Visibly calming herself, and with far more difficulty than he'd seen her display previously, Wil struggled to answer John civilly, "Look, for me, and for him – for both of us – it is best when he wakes up that things are not the same between us as they were before I left. Take my word for it. It is not only just _best_; for so many reasons to go back to what we had is simply no longer an option."

John stared at her disapprovingly. "Doesn't the Captain have a say in that?"

"This time?" she once again looked at the man who had been her lover as well as her best friend and Captain. "Let me think… No!" She smiled sadly, her rage finally conquered. "And if Jack thought about it with the _right_ head I am sure he'd agree with me. But we both know him better than that, don't we?"

John's eyes shifted back and forth several times between Wil and Jack as he considered what she'd said. "I understand," he finally answered her. "And I'm here to help you to the best of my ability, M'Lady," he bowed gallantly in her direction. "That being said, maybe in light of all this new information we should wake up The Doctor first?" John smiled puckishly but he was only half-joking. He mimicked a balance, holding out his two hands, palms toward the ceiling, and alternately shifted them up and down. "Sexually frustrated Jack Harkness versus pissed off Time Lord? Hmm? I'm not sure who I'd _less_ rather be in the same room with…"

"I suggest we stick with our original choice. But everything is going to happen pretty fast, John. If you don't mind I'd like to have a plan in place for dealing with Jack when he revives."

"You're a woman after my own heart," John Hart replied, meaning it.


	12. Chapter 12

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWELVE**

John Hart could not stay in the room. He could not listen to his friend Jack Harkness scream like that.

Before he left he apologized as best he could to Wil Beinert. She was standing next to the Captain, holding his hand, tears streaming down her face, while the ship used some sort of insanely advanced technology John had never before seen nor even heard of to extract the nano-cortical fibers from the frontal lobe of Jack's cerebral cortex.

The scene absolutely horrified John, although granted he'd witnessed, even perpetrated, many horrible things in his life. At first he tried to convince himself it couldn't be any worse than watching the Captain die from exposure to the hard vacuum of space and then revive when, as Jack described it to him later, it felt as if he was suffering the _Ling chi_ – torture and death by a thousand cuts.

But this was worse. Far, far worse.

Jack was soaking wet from perspiration. He'd lost control of his bodily functions and there were small drops of blood coming from his nose and ears.

Worse yet were Jack's hands. Those wonderful, strong, sensitive hands and fingers, which, John recalled, only a few hours before had been tantalizingly, exquisitely, maddeningly caressing his body. Those hands were now contracted into something akin to claws. The sight of them made John Hart blanch.

John had not expected this. The procedure was non-invasive. Wil had carefully explained it would not physically break the skin. But apparently that fact meant very little…

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," He whispered while placing a hand on her shoulder.

She raised her free hand to his and squeezed it gently. "It's okay, I understand. Go. I'll come find you."

As he walked away he heard Wil Beinert begin to sing. As John stood in the doorway for a few seconds listening he realized that the singing had to be as much for her own sanity as it was for the patient's well-being.

Later, he presumed after it was finally over, she found him sitting in the control room.

It surprised Wil to see that he'd been crying. It also surprised her that he did not try to hide it.

John looked up at her, his eyes red and swollen, "Is Jack going to be okay?"

"I think so. He's still asleep but we will need to wake him up soon."

John shook his head. "I can't believe how terrible that was. Was it that bad for me?"

"It was." She knew to be absolutely truthful she would've needed to append _worse_ to those two words, but she didn't have the heart for it.

"But my clothes?"

"I washed them for you, John."

He hastily stood up and blinked at her. He wanted to say something clever, or witty or even snarky. Instead all that came out was, "You did?"

She nodded solemnly. "Yes."

"You've seen me then? You've… you've seen my scars?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes briefly and then looked at her. "Usually… before… I try to warn people…"

"John," she interrupted him, emotion filling her voice. "What happened to you?"

He inhaled deeply. "I was captured. Repeatedly tortured. Nearly killed. Jack rescued me. He saved me. Although at the time there wasn't much left to save. Then he looked after me. I was months recovering."

Wil's face had gone ashen. Her eyes a dark blue-green that bordered on midnight black were filled with tears. "Oh God, John, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It's over. I don't think about it any more, so don't you either, okay?"

"Strong words from a man who's crying." She impulsively wiped away one the tears from his cheek with an index finger.

He caught her hand, kissed it briefly and then released it. "I'm not crying out of self-pity or even for Jack…"

She looked at him curiously.

"I'm crying because of Spike."

"Who?"

"The Doctor's cat. Spike is alone in the TARDIS. I mean… the other TARDIS. We left without…"

Wil raised a hand, a signal for quiet John now realized.

"Ah! Rose's cat? The Doctor still has Spike? He… Is it a he?" She looked at John who adamantly nodded at her in confirmation, "…is sleeping. He usually does, apparently, when no one is around. He's none too happy about the food situation but there's still a little left in his bowl. He has plenty of water."

John smiled radiantly. She liked his smile. "You mean he's still okay? Oh that's great! But how did you do that?"

She looked at him levelly, "Do you really want to know?"

"Hmm. When you put it that way, maybe not so much."

"Smart man."

"You finally noticed?"

She nodded. "It's time to wake up Jack. You remember our plan?"

"Yes, M'Lady. His clothes?"

"They're a mess."

"Oh boy. He's not going to be happy about that."

"Add it to the list, John."


	13. Chapter 13

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTEEN**

"Jack, wake up!"

The first thing Jack Harkness noticed as he gradually regained consciousness was that he was _not_ sprawled out uncomfortably on the unforgiving floor of the TARDIS. Instead, he seemed to be lying on a fairly cozy bed of some sort. That was strange, but not particularly disturbing.

The second thing he noticed was that it wasn't The Doctor's smiling face floating above him. Instead it was John Hart's face and it was _not_ smiling. In fact, Jack thought, John's face looked pretty damned grim. This was also rather strange and in fact definitely a bit disturbing. He wondered where The Doctor was and if he was all right.

The third thing he noticed really, _really_ did disturb him. He smelled something terrible and then he realized what he smelled was himself. He was soaking wet and worse, he'd soiled his pants. Disturb didn't even half cover it, he was mortified.

"What the fuck?!" he felt like he was choking on his own words. Then he tried to sit up and that's when he noticed the fourth thing. And boy-oh-boy it was a BIG thing. There were straps securing him to the bed. Now Jack was_ really_ upset and he struggled hard against the restraints.

"Jack, please, stay calm," John ordered in an authoritative voice as he held a cup to the Captain's lips. "Here, drink this." Jack was in no condition to refuse.

"Listen to me. I need you to stay calm, Jack. I'll answer all your questions but I first need to know if you are all right. Are you okay, Jack?"

"You mean other than the fact that I'm tied up and stewing in my own shit and piss? Yeah, I guess I'm okay." His voice was hoarse, his throat scratchy.

"Do you want to sit up?"

"Yes, please."

"Good, I'll release your bindings. For your own good, Jack, please stay where you are. I promise that everything will be made clear to you but you must take things slowly at first. Do you understand?"

Jack nodded in agreement and John raised the crèche into a sitting position and then unfastened the restraints.

And before John Hart knew what was happening Jack Harkness had him by the throat and was towering over him.

"Fuck taking things slowly," Jack snarled. "What in the hell is going on here? Where is The Doctor and what in name of God has happened to my clothes?"

John's eyes were bugging out from his head. "Jack! Don't! You're hurting me!"

"Oh yeah? I'd say you're in for a whole world of hurt if you don't start answering my questions and fast!" He squeezed John's neck tighter to prove his point.

"Jack! Look behind you!"

"Oh, right. That's the oldest…" but something made Jack glance over his shoulder and what he saw caused him to immediately loosen his choking grip from around John Hart's scrawny neck. It also made his bones feel as if they had turned to water because suddenly Jack found himself smack dab in the middle of a "What's Wrong With This Picture?" puzzle.

There was Wil Beinert, his Wil Beinert, but clearly _not_ his Wil Beinert, for her eyes, simply stated, were all wrong. Her eyes were an unnatural green and a startling blue and a radiant, glowing gold, and Jack knew… he _knew_ what that meant.

But worse, far worse was that Wil Beinert was standing next to a bed that held a ghostly pale, unmoving version of Jack's Time Lord. The Captain's eyes traveled down Wil's arm to her hand, which was firmly placed upon The Doctor's – _his_ Doctor's – shoulder. Fury coalesced in Jack's chest like roiling storm clouds.

"Let go of him, Jack," Wil Beinert said harshly. She was not smiling. "This is no time for games. We have to get to work if we're going to save the universe… _again_."


	14. Chapter 14

**FORGIVENESS**

**FOURTEEN**

"Johhhhnnn?" Jack Harkness had slightly loosened his grip from around John Hart's neck, but hadn't yet totally released it. The Captain stared with icy ferociousness at the man who'd been his erstwhile colleague at the Time Agency.

"It's okay Jack, it's really her. It's really Wil. And it's really me, too, by the way, and if you don't let go of me I swear I promise payback and it's not going to be pretty."

"Let him go Jack, we have to help The Doctor."

The Captain wasn't happy but the three magic words – _help The Doctor_ – had been spoken.

Jack took a deep breath, "Right," and released John. "What do we need to do?"

"Jack," John breathlessly explained, "the nanobots inside our heads were never actually deactivated. What happened aboard the Newhope there at the end was apparently all smoke and mirrors. But that's not all! The Doctor's TARDIS is complicit in the deception. Wil has extracted the filaments from your brain as well as mine, but we still need to perform the procedure on _him_." John nodded toward The Doctor.

Jack had turned his full attention to John – the one cognizant person in the room he felt most confident about at the moment… albeit not a very large amount of confidence. "Where are we?" he asked, looking as intently into John's eyes as he could.

"We're aboard Wil's, uh, ship. She's the one who has the tech and expertise to remove the nanobots. Jack… the procedure isn't pretty."

"How do you know?"

"I tried to watch when yours were removed."

"You _tried_?"

"Jack, I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch you go through _that_." Jack felt his knees go a little weak. John had watched as he'd been buried alive, for God's sake, and hadn't even flinched. How much worse could this procedure be? Suddenly a more ominous thought occurred to him and the room quaked.

"You didn't see it? Then…" Jack glanced back at Wil and immediately turned again toward John, "how do you know she's…?"

"Jack, for once in your life please… just trust me on this," John pleaded. "She's here to help us. She's already rescued us once. Do you remember how strange things were getting on The Doctor's TARDIS? I mean think about it! I believe her, Jack. I trust her."

Jack Harkness stared fixedly into his former partner's eyes. He prided himself on being able to tell when John was fucking with him, and he sensed nothing but truth coming from the man. Still… considering what they'd been through on the Newhope – what _he'd_ been through – Jack still wasn't totally convinced that something fishy, or worse, wasn't going on. He felt like it was way too much of a coincidence having Wil show up again. The scene in the Newhope's galley flooded his memory, the intimate words they'd spoken, how badly he'd wanted her…

"Are you absolutely certain, John?"

The response was a silent but ardent nod.

"Okay," Jack turned toward the woman who had once been the single most important person in his life. "You definitely have some explaining to do, but now is obviously not the time," He saw her nod in agreement, a promise clearly implied. "Tell me what's going to happen to The Doctor."

"Grasshopper, that's the ship, performs the procedure using a highly advanced micro-scale laser scalpel along with some other very sophisticated tech. Think of it as a sort of virtual, non-invasive, brain surgery." John made an odd, strangled sound but she ignored him and continued. "The procedure requires an enormous level of precision. The nano-cortical fibers are intertwined with and have to some extent replaced the glia in his cerebral cortex. It's an incredibly complicated and difficult process to unwind and remove the filaments without damaging the neurons and the remaining native glial cells. I'll not deny the surgery is extremely dangerous and potentially lethal. But you and John are both testaments to its efficacy. Thankfully The Doctor's brain physiology is not so different that we can't cope with it, and I have reason to be optimistic we'll be as successful with him as we were with the two of you. Still, his procedure is anticipated to be more far more difficult simply because he presents a new archetype."

She went quiet and held her breath, knowing full well that Jack could refuse to allow the procedure. She had no contingency plan if he did. Going against the Captain's wishes was not something she fancied.

"How can I help?"

She drew a gratified breath.

"Well, you can stay here with me while the ship does her work. You can talk to him, hold his hand." She paused briefly, then turned more somber. "But John's right, it's not going to be pleasant. And I understand if you don't want to hang around. However I would appreciate the company if you're willing to try…

"John, I assume?" she asked softly as she turned to meet his eyes.

"I'm out of here, Wil. I can't… Again, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, John, really. Jack?"

"I'll stay. But with one condition."

"What's that?"

"Do you have some spare clothes I could change into?"

She nodded toward an adjacent room. "There'll be some scrubs in the cabinet next door. Help yourself. Put your soiled clothes down the chute, they'll be cleaned for you."

"Thanks."

Jack left the room.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" half-whispered John as he crossed over to her.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she murmured back. "He's holding it all in. That doesn't bode well for the future."

John thought for a moment. "You know, this will probably sound a bit bizarre, but Jack may be as freaked out about the potential for disruption you present to his life as you are about his reappearance in yours." She tried to interrupt him but he waved her off. "No, listen to me. It could be that the two of you simply need to say _bygones_ to each other. I mean, I know you haven't told me where you're coming from but it feels to me like the two of you at present have far more in common than you think."

She looked at John with newfound wonder. He was shorter than her but at that moment he seemed very tall indeed. Without realizing it she took his hand in hers. "Where I'm coming from?" she smiled. "To discover that, John Hart, find out where I'm going and work backward."

"More Buddha?" He squeezed her hand gently.

"No, something a Time Lord once said ages ago. Ages and ages ago..."

Their eyes met for a long moment, "John?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He gently pulled his hand away from hers and bowed deeply, "M'Lady."

"And here comes Jack," she whispered as she stepped away from him and busied herself.

John turned and walked quickly out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15

**FORGIVENESS**

**FIFTEEN**

Wil affixed several small wireless electrodes – at least that's what Jack thought they looked like – to The Doctor's forehead and scalp.

"Doesn't look very high tech to me," Jack muttered as she attached the final one.

She looked at the Captain, smiled and then nodded towards a very large piece of shiny black and silver hardware that stood nearby. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah."

Wil picked up one of the unused electrodes and held it in front of him. "Don't let their modest appearance fool you. These are incredibly sophisticated science. They're made of carbon nanotubes and based on advanced quantum chemistry. The surgical procedure we're performing operates on matter at a sub-molecular level." She put the electrode back down. "You won't see their like on Earth for centuries."

"Where did you? How?"

"The basis for the technology is not of this universe. The ship, her name is Grasshopper, as I indicated a few minutes ago, refined and improved it for the current application."

"Grasshopper?"

"Yes, Jack." Wil looked at him levelly. "You've met her before."

The color drained from his face. He said nothing.

"I know it is inadequate. But I'm very sorry, Jack. So is she."

Still he said nothing. He simply stared at her. Wil suddenly wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms. She wanted to comfort him and in turn be comforted by him, to draw in his scent, to rekindle the warmth they'd shared, the love they'd found. Instead she drew a quiet breath and glanced down at The Doctor before looking back up at Jack. "We're ready to start. Are you certain you want to stay?"

He nodded.

_Okay, the silent treatment_, she thought as she blinked back a tear. _I guess I deserve it._

"If past experience holds, the pain will start out fairly tolerably but will increase sharply as the procedure continues. Now I am aware he's stronger than your average bear, so I've got redundant bindings holding him down. Still, I'm a bit worried. It is okay for him to move, to shift around, but he must not be allowed to leave the crèche. That would be a very bad thing, so I need you to stand ready to help me restrain him further if need be. Okay?"

He nodded at her again.

_I may deserve it but I sure the hell don't like it_, she thought.

"Then we'll start," Wil didn't even try to meet his eyes.

Jack took The Doctor's hand between his. "I'm right here with you," he whispered.

The first scream pierced the air in the room for what seemed like a full minute and left in tatters any fragile hope Jack had that it would be easy to stand by and watch his friend, his Time Lord, be tortured.

Yes, the scream was bad. It was terrible. It was unimaginable. But what came next was worse.

Dead quiet.

"Oh my God," Jack cried out as The Doctor shuddered violently and then went perfectly still.


	16. Chapter 16

**FORGIVENESS**

**SIXTEEN**

Wil was suddenly at Jack's side, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"No, Jack. It's okay. He's okay. His life signs are still strong. Post-synaptic currents and neurotransmitter levels are as expected. Grasshopper says he's fine. She's continuing with the procedure."

Jack looked down at his hands and couldn't help but notice he was trembling. It was starting to seem like a long day…

The Doctor's hand, which he still held between his, was cool but did not feel lifeless.

"You mean he's all right?" the Captain asked, not looking at her.

"Yes. He's strong, Jack. The procedure is by no means completed but he's holding up very well."

Jack exhaled slowly then turned to face her.

His eyes were cold, hard. But at least he was speaking to her. Although the next words he offered were not ones of consolation.

"If anything happens to him…" It was almost a snarl.

Wil's hand dropped back down to her side as she took a step back. "Nothing will, Jack. I know you have scant reason to trust me, to trust us, but please believe me when I tell you that I'm very hopeful…"

"_Believe_ you? _Trust_ you?" He shook his head and turned away from her, turned his attention back toward The Doctor.

Unaccustomed to such treatment Wil was becoming upset, but she kept her voice calm, "Jack, please don't shut me out. Don't be angry with me…"

"Angry?" he said softly, his eyes still fixed on The Doctor. "_Angry?_ Just wait until _he_ wakes up… then you'll see what angry really is. You betrayed him, Wil. And you know he's not very forgiving when it comes to that. Few crimes are worse than treachery to a man who is above all else loyal."

He turned on her almost violently. "There are no second chances when it comes to The Doctor."

"You don't think I'm already aware of that, Jack Harkness?" Her voice had become a low rumble. "That is only one of the many problems which confront me, which confront us. And it is so small, so trivial compared to the others – compared to what still awaits us. You have no idea… You have no idea what I gave up to come back here." She choked back a small sob. "And I know you don't care about that, it's obvious you don't care about me, but you're going to care very much about what yet needs to be done. You're going to care that we must fight a most terrible foe, a most dreadful force. A force which you have already fought and lost soundly to, I should remind you. And if not, if you are so bitter you do not care about _that_, perhaps you will care about the fact that we must also find a way to save The Doctor's TARDIS, which is…"

"What do you mean my TARDIS?"

They both gasped simultaneously as they turned as one and stared at The Doctor, whose brown eyes were crystal clear and focused intently on Wil Beinert's face.

"What's the matter with the TARDIS?"

"Doctor!" Jack exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

The Time Lord looked up at Jack and smiled briefly. "I'm fine, Captain. And I'll be better once these restraints are removed."

Jack glanced at Wil. She nodded in response and the Doctor was quickly released.

"Now tell me," he said as he stood, tenderly rubbing his wrists. "What's going on here and exactly what is wrong with my ship? And by the way, hello, Wil."

"Hello, Doctor," she said, incredibly assuaged he was treating her civilly. "I'm relieved you're doing so well. I wish I could tell you that I have all the answers but I don't. What I can tell you is that you were fundamentally deceived into abandoning the Newhope."

She took a deep, quiet breath before continuing. "In short you were manipulated into giving the consciousness which had assimilated that vessel exactly what it wanted: to be rid of the life forms infesting it and to be allowed to proceed with its mission.

"You, Jack, _and_ John," Wil nodded at the doorway and John Hart crossed the room and stood by the Captain, "as well as your TARDIS were to greater or lesser degrees co-opted." She pointed to her forehead and in response The Doctor raised a hand to his, where he encountered one of the small electrodes attached to his skin. He pulled it off and examined it curiously as Wil continued talking. "We have managed to successfully remove the nanobots from your brains, thereby freeing you from any further unwanted external influence. Freeing your TARDIS, Doctor, will be much more difficult, I fear. We have no similar procedure for her."

"Its mission, you said? What mission?" asked Jack.

Wil took another deep breath. "The sole purpose of that consciousness, that entity, is to establish a sort of gateway – a transwarp conduit – through subspace. In fact a gateway through countless subspaces. Once completed, within that conduit's inter-dimensional distortion field normal quantum subspace limitations will no longer apply..."

Jack pulled a face, "What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Transwarp conduits? Subspace gateways? Inter-dimensional distortion fields?" The Doctor was murmuring, his eyes almost feverishly bright as they darted about the room, focusing on things that were visible only to him. "The Aedui?" Said so softly as to almost be soundless; he was _so_ hoping it wasn't true.

"The Aedui," Wil confirmed with a single nod. "And they're building a sort of tunnel into our universe – an indestructable trans-dimensional vortex. They're readying an invasion."


	17. Chapter 17

**FORGIVENESS**

**SEVENTEEN**

"The Aedui? What's that?" asked Jack.

"Not what, _who_," said The Doctor. "An ancient myth to the Time Lords; the Aedui were said to be very old even compared to us, and we are one of the oldest civilizations in the known universe. They were portrayed as a war-mad race which had learned to traverse the infinite dimensions and exist in subspace, adapting to different sets of physical laws as needed in order to pursue their bloodlust. It was believed that in their language the word Aedui meant Eaters of the Dead. But the Time Lords had another, a different name for them."

"Oh yeah? What was that?" John inquired, his voice sounding unsettled.

"Devourers of Souls…

"The stories went that they practiced a religion of death, taking energy and sustenance from the carnage they wrought and reveled in. They craved, worshipped conflict. The Aedui would devastate entire solar systems and sell the young of the destroyed planets into bondage. They would preside over horrific ritual sacrifices in numbers that were incomprehensible to even the most sadistic observers."

"No!" declared Jack as he repressed a shudder. "I don't believe it. What you describe is too much the stuff of histrionic nightmares. Come on! This is preposterous! How could anything like that really exist? How could such evil develop and flourish? Especially with highly advanced technical capabilities that made them trans-dimensional. That's absurd. You said it yourself, Doctor, it's a _myth_."

"There are no intrinsic boundaries to evil," The Doctor said darkly, his eyes giving the impression he spoke from experience. "Besides, it is not preposterous, Jack. As it was told, the Aedui preyed on promoting hatred, violence. They would provoke and turn on external peoples, making war on them as enemies, but if that was impossible it was said they were just as likely to turn inwardly upon themselves. They were disunited, divided except in the face of war and so they would seek out conflict wherever they went. And if they did not find it, they would create it. Moreover, and this should sound disturbingly familiar to both of you, John and Jack, stories told of the Aedui fostering raging internecine hostilities between formerly peaceful, co-existing races and then swooping in when the sides were at the height of distraction and annihilating them both. It is possible that is exactly what we walked into, what we interrupted when we encountered the Oz and the Maat."

"I agree with Jack," John said. "This just sounds too twisted, too insanely paranoid. Such an entity, such manifest evil that you describe makes absolutely _no_ sense, Doctor, other than as a tale you tell children to get them to behave."

"And why is it you believe everything needs to make sense, Captain Hart?" The Doctor chided him.

"Because otherwise the cosmos would fall into fucking chaos!" John's eyes flashed.

"_Exactly my point_…" replied The Doctor sharply, but then he softened his tone. "All of us know myth is often based in some sort of reality. Furthermore there are broad similarities in the mythologies that have risen among the countless worlds of this galaxy. On Wil's own home planet, Gog and Magog, Anzu-A, Scylla, Chichevache… beings of tremendous, incomprehensible, invincible and relentless evil. That singular theme spans the inhabited planets and predates the oldest histories of the Time Lords. It is not a huge leap of faith to imagine those myths as having a common source."

"The Aedui?" said Jack.

The Doctor shrugged and then nodded silently.

"What is known of them, beyond the myth?" the Captain asked. He no longer sounded skeptical.

"Very little, Jack. It was said the Aedui deliberately wrote nothing down because they believed reliance on the written word weakened them, weakened their authority, and weakened their power of memory. After obliterating a system, or even an entire galaxy, they left nothing behind. No evidence of themselves and no trace of the civilizations they extinguished. No trace of what had happened except for the vaguest rumors unwinding in the vastness of outer space. For the Time Lords this was in a very real sense the story's most threatening aspect – an uncivilized civilization which left no record: immoral, uncentralized, a warrior aristocracy that vanished into the quantum night of subspace, only to return when it suited them and their unfathomable, malevolent cravings."

"Jesus Fucking Christ," John Hart muttered, shaking his head. "A bloody beachhead of evil."

Wil smiled inwardly. It was actually quite unexpected: John reminded her a little of Owen Harper. And every good team needed someone like him, not only for comic relief but to keep them all honest.

"Yes, indeed," said the Lord of Time. "And under no circumstance can we allow that beachhead to be achieved."


	18. Chapter 18

**FORGIVENESS**

**EIGHTEEN**

Wil figured it was as good a time as any to broach the first of what was sure to be a number of sticky issues.

"Jack, have you not wondered what caused an object you believed innocuous to arise into something profoundly different? Something that The Doctor called an abomination?"

Jack looked at her with a steely blue stare but it was The Doctor who answered, his brown eyes flashing in anger. "You mean an abomination that almost killed him, nearly destroyed everyone and everything he cared about, and caused the one person in the universe he loved more than any other to vanish without a trace?" The Time Lord scoffed. "Are you going to tell us a bedtime story, mummy?"

"ENOUGH!" Wil waved her hand, her gold eyes blazing with an almost electric glow. "I am talking to Jack!"

"But you will answer to me!" The Lord of Time's face was livid. "It is from me that your power to betray and wound, deceive and hurt, originated. I gave you a gift which you summarily and harmfully misused, and whether my TARDIS is in attendance or not, I can and will take it from you."

The woman stepped forward, toward the Time Lord, her face furious, her hands clenched, her eyes inhuman.

"Wil!" John nearly shouted.

She spun on him, enraged, "Stay out of this, John Hart, it does not concern you!"

"Like hell it doesn't! What are you doing?" John stepped in front of her, his arms outstretched. "What are _we_ doing? Fighting amongst ourselves? If what you and The Doctor have said is true, then this is the greatest of insanities! It is exactly what these Aedui would want. What could you possibly be thinking to bring up such a subject now? It is pure madness!"

The voice of Captain Jack Harkness was soft, calm, almost, but not quite kind. "I _have_ wondered and I have found no answers. Tell me, what was that piece of coral? Where did it come from? And what brought about the transformation?"

John met Wil's eyes as he nodded almost imperceptibly. She returned the gesture and he moved to her side. The tension in the room eased somewhat as they all took a tentative step back from the precipice.

"In either innocence or arrogance, The Doctor placed me on a path to destroy something that he himself had left in your safekeeping, Jack. I do not know how or when this comes to be, or even _which_ Doctor does it – the one we know now or some other future Doctor – Grasshopper opts to not share that information with me. But the coral came from The Doctor's TARDIS herself. Initially it was just a sliver but he carried it around with him until the time was right – and to be honest with you I don't even know exactly what that phrase _time was right_ means anymore, time has become so malleable and in many respects so confounding to me. Regardless, John used the word _beachhead_ a few moments ago. The coral was a sort of beachhead – an entrance into the existence of a Time Lord; a failsafe in case something terrible happened to The Doctor's TARDIS, the only TARDIS in the universe as far as he knows, he knew, he _will_ know.

"The Doctor understands that without his TARDIS he in truth is no longer a Time Lord."

She glanced at the Doctor looking for some sort of affirmation, or at least an acknowledgement, but his face was unreadable and so she continued. "What is a Time Lord without his TARDIS? What is a TARDIS without her Time Lord? The one requires the other. So, in as perfect an example of hiding in plain sight as you can imagine, some time in the past a future Doctor squirreled away a piece of his TARDIS with you for safeguarding, Captain. I don't believe it was ever intended to serve as a warning beacon, but that is precisely what ended up happening.

"Your tears were the final catalyst. Do you remember, Jack?"

She looked at him, and for just a few moments reality crystallized as the universe distilled down to the two of them, in another place, in another time, as he lovingly held her in his arms:

_-00-_

"_I noticed Gwen, you know," he said. "Don't think I didn't. She's a mess. We all are, and no matter how difficult it might be, perhaps it is time to go back to business as usual at Torchwood?"_

_Wil realized it was not merely a rhetorical question. Jack was asking her if they should break off the search for Ianto. He was asking her if they should give up. If they should quit. If they should leave a man behind. It was, to be sure, a loaded question. But she had always been honest with him and wasn't about to stop now._

"_You told me once that you knew how sad change can be." She paused, carefully considering her next words. "I know you were talking about something… someone else at the time, but I believe the statement applies here as well. We've given it our best shot and although it's going to be hard, I agree it may be time to put the past behind us and move forward. Otherwise…"_

"_Otherwise," he interrupted her, "worse things are going to happen."_

_She shrugged, "Yeah, something like that."_

_Jack released her and looked away. She suspected there were tears in his eyes. It was going to be very difficult for him to let go of his fixation. She watched as he picked up the piece of coral she'd just been holding. He moved it back and forth, from hand to hand, as he stared down at it like it was a Magic 8 Ball: Yes. No. Reply hazy, try again… Then he pressed it to his heart._

_Wil knew at that moment he had decided. She held her breath without realizing it. The choice he made would have far-reaching effects, of that she was certain: profound effects on Torchwood and maybe even on the nature of their relationship. But whatever his decision and its consequences, she'd support him. She always did. Always would._

_Jack looked up at her. His face was tear-streaked but his eyes were clear and resolute. "Then that's it," he said determinedly…_

_-00-_

"Yes, Wil. I remember." Jack's voice was heavy with emotion.

"There was something in your tears that day which was the proverbial last straw, which created and hastened the mad, seemingly senseless rush toward change. There was something secret and unknowable in those tears. There were whispers of what had happened and what would happen. The origin of those whispers lay in the first time you and John and The Doctor were onboard the Newhope together. When you encountered the warring Oz and Maat. When your own ship, Doctor, was apparently compromised. There was something hidden, something enigmatic, something quiet, yet something so palpable and so profound and so sinister in those murmurs that they woke the slumbering TARDIS, which had been waiting patiently and silently and so very covertly on your desk for decades, Jack, and stirred her into action before she was even remotely ready."

She shook her head sadly, "Once I learned this, I couldn't destroy her."

Wil turned and faced the Time Lord. "It was not her doing, Doctor. She sensed, and as we now know rightfully so, an imminent and most terrible danger to her progenitor and to her progenitor's Time Lord, and awoke. She was unprepared, untested, unknowing. Do not blame her. Do not punish her. If you must punish someone, punish me. But I most humbly advise you to hold that blame, that punishment, because first there is work to do, and I fear you will need us both before this day is over."

John, his eyes defiant, reached out, found Wil's hand and took it in his. His next words were for The Doctor but he was looking intently at Jack. "If you punish Wil you will have to first go through me to do it."

The Doctor turned to Jack and brown eyes met blue. "This is your call, Captain. I was betrayed, but you had your heart broken."

Wil shut her eyes at the painful words and pulled back her hand from John's firm grasp. She had known all her trespasses to be true, but to hear it said out loud like that, so matter-of-factly, made the guilt feel so much worse.

Jack Harkness raised himself to his full height, squared his shoulders and then looked at each of them in turn. "Doctor, John, Wil, although we learn from history, I choose to not permit the past to impose itself on the future. As a famous American revolutionary once said: _United we stand, divided we fall_. _Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs._"

The Doctor smiled thinly. "If I'm correct, and you know I almost always am, that same revolutionary also proclaimed: _Give me liberty or give me death._ Let us hope that in standing so united we manage to achieve the former and avoid the latter."

"Patrick Henry is always good," John winked at Jack, "but I much prefer what that old coot Benjamin Franklin said: _We must hang together, gentlemen... else, we shall most assuredly hang separately_.

"Now then," John Hart continued, his eyes gleaming fiercely. "Does anybody have a plan?"


	19. Chapter 19

**FORGIVENESS**

**NINETEEN**

It was Wil who answered John's question. "There are two tasks at hand. They are similar in that they both involve one of the TARDISes, but that is where their similarity ends as the tasks themselves couldn't be more disparate."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"We must venture to the far reaches of this solar system and deal with the danger that is fomenting there. The Doctor was correct earlier, we cannot permit the subspace vortex to be completed. Once it is complete, stopping the Aedui from entering our dimension will be incredibly difficult if not absolutely impossible. We must do everything we can to prevent that from happening because when they start coming across we will quickly be overrun by a most terrible force. In short, we've got to destroy the beachhead before it is finished…

"This first task will involve the use of my ship, Grasshopper, because the other TARDIS…" At this point Wil stopped speaking and nodded at The Doctor.

"Because my ship, _our _ship, Jack, is not herself. I can hardly believe I'm saying this but she can no longer be trusted. I don't know if it was true before we arrived in this solar system, because remember we still don't really know why we were brought here in the first place, but it is now painfully apparent to me that she was misleading if not outright deceptive in encouraging us to abandon the Newhope, which can only imply she was and still _is_ in collusion with the Aedui." The Doctor shook his head despondently. "She has betrayed me," he said softly.

"Could she somehow have been tricked like us?" Jack asked, badly wanting it to be so.

"Possibly," the man from Gallifrey responded, still sounding dejected. "At least that is what I'd like to think. Otherwise our second task, to try to revive and restore her, will be much more difficult to accomplish."

"Which task comes first?" John reasonably inquired. "This is feeling a bit like a chicken and egg conundrum to me right now."

Wil nodded at him. "A good question. And that is our problem exactly. I believe the two tasks must be completed simultaneously. I fear that in attempting to eliminate one of the threats we will create a far more serious problem in the remaining situation."

"Wait, let me get this straight," Jack said incredulously. "You're implying if we take out whatever is coalescing out beyond this system's Kuiper belt that The Doctor's TARDIS may somehow violently rise up against us?"

Wil nodded, "Not only that. In some sort of contingency role she could assume full responsibility for the mission and instantaneously activate a trans-dimensional portal, which then would permit if not incite the Aedui to commence crossing over immediately. Such a situation must be avoided at all costs. What The Doctor surmises is true, at this juncture we cannot trust her and I have no reason to believe such a feat is not within her almost limitless abilities. Remember this is a TARDIS we're talking about and her innate power to manipulate spacetime is nearly boundless. Nor can we do anything but suspect she is in some sort of contact with the intelligence that assimilated the Newhope. It would be folly to think otherwise. Her original reasons for bringing you and The Doctor here, Jack, might've been benevolent. She may have sensed the Newhope was in trouble, or alternatively she could have been summoned by what has overtaken the Time Agency ship. I'm not sure we'll ever know when she turned, unless she at some point chooses to tell you, Doctor. We are on uncharted waters – such a situation like this is unheard of in the annals of the Time Lords. What we do know is that at the very _least_ she's been deceiving you since your arrival in this solar system. At the very _most_…" She shook her head and did not, could not, finish the sentence.

"And if we attempt to deal with The Doctor's TARDIS first?" Jack wondered out loud, fearing that he already knew the answer.

It was The Doctor who responded, "Then we risk causing premature activation of the subspace conduit currently under construction."

"So…" John's eyes were feral as he stared at the ceiling and beyond, "the four of us must conduct a coordinated attack on two fronts."

The Captain shook his head. "I don't much like the sound of that, especially since we were all just talking about hanging together or hanging separately. I don't like the thought of splitting us up. There's got to be another way. A better way…"

"If there is," Wil replied, trying to meet Jack's eyes but he denied her the privilege. "I don't see it."

"I don't get it," John looked at her curiously. "If you're so powerful, as The Doctor implies, can't you just snap your fingers or something and simply get us out of this mess?"

Wil regarded him sadly, "No, I can't. I made a commitment, a promise really, before I came back. I promised after extricating the three of you that it would be my humanity which would guide me in this endeavor, and not any other abilities that I might be lucky enough to possess. I have taught Grasshopper that it is my humanity which makes me truly special. That is it my humanity that makes me truly strong. That it is my humanity that gives meaning to my life and existence. And most importantly, it is my humanity that distinguishes me from the unalloyed evil now confronting us. I promised her I would act solely from my humanity; I do not intend to break that covenant."

"Right," Jack said darkly. "It'll be nice to see you keep a promise for once."

"Jack!" John barked.

Wil shook her head sadly. "No, he's right. I once promised I would never hurt him again and I did. I'm so sorry, Jack…"

"Yeah," the Captain turned away from her.

It was John who broke the long uncomfortable silence which followed. "Well," he finally said, "you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows, and if we have to split up into two teams I can tell you who're definitely _not_ going to be working together…"


	20. Chapter 20

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTY**

"John's right," said The Doctor. "We do have to split up into two teams and there's only one configuration that makes sense. Wil and I will deal with the problem closer to home. John and Jack – you've worked together in the past and I assume that will be a plus in whatever lies waiting in the outer reaches of this solar system. At least it can't hurt.

"The question is," and here he looked levelly at Wil, "are you willing to let them take your ship and if so, is she willing to allow it?"

Wil nodded. "It's already been taken care of; when Grasshopper removed the nanobots I took the liberty of having her replace them with…"

"WHAT?!" Jack screeched.

"Oh Jack! I'm just joking. Since when did you become such a stick in the mud?"

John snorted, "And you're just noticing this _now_?"

Jack shot John an "I am not amused" look, but The Doctor actually cracked a smile, albeit a small one.

Wil raised a hand in the air and looked at The Doctor. "May I?" she asked. He nodded silently in response. She snapped her fingers and the four of them instantly rematerialized in the ship's control room.

"Grasshopper has short distance teleportation capabilities," she explained. "Nothing that would work at planetary distances, much less inter-planetary. Its purpose is primarily for emergency situations. You know… when all else fails she can scarf you up if you're not too far away. Her interior is fully covered by the teleport. Maximum beaming distance from outside of the ship is about five hundred meters."

John noticed that The Doctor's and Jack's eyes had widened considerably at the sight of the bleeding-edge bridge consoles. No doubt about it, Grasshopper was an impressive vessel. But as far as he was concerned, what she looked like wasn't nearly as important as what she could do. With a silent chortle he realized that was pretty much the way he felt about his lovers, too. He furtively glanced at Jack and felt his heart lurch and his blood surge; not that good looks didn't count…

"You can communicate with the ship via voice command or by using these…" Wil casually waved her arm through the air and all the console display screens soundlessly flashed to life. "There are a variety of available input interfaces, everything from traditional keyboards and joysticks to eye motion detectors. I recommend you stick to voice command unless something happens that prevents it. As far as input devices, if the need arises use whatever is the most comfortable for you to operate. The ship will respond as appropriate via the screens. For example, Grasshopper, please display the most recent schematics and images of this solar system, focusing particular attention on the region you've been specifically monitoring for me."

Many of the major displays changed, rendering optical, infrared, ultraviolet, radio, x-ray and gamma-ray images of the distant area where the Time Agency Space Ship Newhope had once desolately orbited the system's anonymous brown dwarf star.

Jack inhaled sharply as he walked up to one of the monitors and peered at it. "There's something out there," he said. "It's hard to get an idea of the size but it looks big. What is it?"

"I suspect that's the transwarp conduit, Jack," Wil answered darkly, glancing over his shoulder at the screen. "We're a bit too far away from it to get a real good look, mainly because it's doing a most excellent job camouflaging itself, but you're right, it is massive. It's huge… and according to our scans it is heavy – extremely, phenomenally dense. Its energy signatures are astonishingly powerful and complex; and I would wager none of you have ever seen the likes of it before. It appears in part to be emitting chronometric particles," The Doctor raised an eyebrow at this and John whistled something low and barely audible. "If I were to speculate, I'd say it is forming a permanent subspace _temporal_ vortex. In other words, it's the beachhead, but a beachhead that not only traverses subspace dimensions but time as well. The implication is that objects entering the vortex can disregard all known spacetime boundaries. It would seem," she looked steadily at The Doctor, "the Aedui can travel in ways not even the Time Lords could've imagined, much less managed.

"But there's more," she shook her head gravely. "As far as I can tell the structure seems to be defying the laws of physics as we know them."

"That's_ never_ a good sign," Jack groaned.

"I'll say. I can't explain where the matter is coming from to create such an enormous structure, unless it's already being transmitted across the vortex and through the beachhead, meaning the beachhead is already partially operational, which is bad news indeed; or…" She paused for a few moments, apparently lost in thought.

"Or?" John edgily urged her on.

Wil shrugged, "Or it is somehow using, incorporating dark matter and/or dark energy… and in my book that's even worse news."

All four were silent until Jack folded his arms across his chest, "Wow. A hell of a thing," he mumbled.

Pulling a face, Wil shot a surprised and quizzical look at The Doctor. "Oh don't worry," he responded to her unspoken question. "Jack always says that when he doesn't know what else to say."

Wil watched as finally – FINALLY! – Jack's expression transformed into a real, bona fide, Jack Harkness grin. It lit up his face and made his blue eyes sparkle. In fact his smile lit up the entire room and all of them felt its pervasive warmth. _Ah, maybe John is right,_ she thought, and it was admittedly a bittersweet thought, _he really does love the Time Lord._

Her reverie was interrupted by John. "So," he asked, looking around the control room, "does your ship have any weapons?"

The Doctor blew a mocking sound out through pursed lips but Wil's matter-of-fact answer surprised him, to say the least. "Yes, Grasshopper is fully armed with both offensive and defensive weaponry."

"What?!" Her response had definitely garnered Jack's attention.

"Where we were – where we came from – was not a particularly safe or peaceful place. We wouldn't have survived without adequate armaments. In the armories there are a variety of hand-held ballistic, stun and phase weapons as well as grenades. The ship herself has ablative armor, deflector shields, and conventional kinetic energy as well as advanced directed-energy weapons including both particle-beam and plasma-based quantum, gravimetric and phased-photon torpedoes. We've got picosats that can produce EM disruptor waves and there are tricobalt explosive packs in a special storage area which _theoretically_ can tear a hole in subspace; however the tri-packs are as of yet untested under actual combat conditions… That doesn't cover all of what's available but it should give you a basic idea."

The three men stared at her and were speechless, but all for different reasons.

The Doctor was shocked and mortified; this was certainly not his grandfather's TARDIS. Nor, evidently, was it even his.

John had, simply put, fallen head-over-heels in lust; exactly with what or who wasn't necessarily so obvious.

And Jack… well, Jack was feeling just a tiny bit guilty for some of the things he'd said. If she'd had to arm herself to such an extreme, then she must've had a very hard time of it indeed…

She looked at them, "Everything okay?" They all nodded mutely.

"Good enough," she went on. "The ship also has a variety of spacesuits, some of which, you might be interested to know, Jack, are right out of _Starship Troopers_. I fully expect you and John will need to EVA…"

Captain Jack Harkness groaned loudly.

The Doctor laughed out loud.


	21. Chapter 21

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTYONE**

"Are you going to be okay, Jack?"

"It's not me who needs to answer that question, Doctor."

"What do you mean?"

"You're the one who'll be stuck working with Echidna, Mother of all Monsters."

"Jack!"

"What, Doctor?"

The Time Lord shook his head sadly. "You have every right to be angry, Jack, but she came a very long way to help us."

"_So?_"

"Imagine where we'd be if she hadn't."

The Captain broke eye contact and looked around the small room. He'd gone there to change back into his own clothes, which were cleaned and neatly pressed. Even the missing button on his shirt had been replaced. The button that had popped off and disappeared only a few hours before when he'd been out in that field with John, amongst the tall blades of grass… He felt a jolt as he recalled the touch of John's fingers on his skin.

After Jack finished dressing he'd meant to shave but instead he sat down, head in hands, to think. And that's how The Doctor found him a short time later.

"Yes, I know," he answered the Time Lord, "of course you are right. We'd be in a fine mess."

"No, Jack. We were already in a fine mess, and didn't even know it. We would now be in an even worse mess if Wil hadn't shown up. She was very brave…"

Jack interrupted him angrily, "Her courage isn't an issue here. Her ability to keep a promise _is_. Do you trust her?"

The Doctor thought for a moment and then nodded, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because there's no better choice."

"Stupid answer."

"But an honest one. And now can you be honest with me, Jack?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Why are you so angry with her?"

"Why am I…? Are you crazy?" Jack stood up, his face inches from The Doctor's. "You've been living with me since she left. If anyone, you should know what I went through."

"Exactly, Jack. What you _went_ through. Past tense. Might I suggest you think about why you're holding on to your anger? Maybe it's time to move past it?"

Jack shook his head in utter amazement, "I can't believe you're lecturing me about letting loose of the past."

"Meaning?"

"You're the one who told me you were tired of looking backward. That you wanted to look forward and wanted me to help you move on…"

"Well, I don't think I put it quite that way."

"Okay, so I'm paraphrasing. But speaking of honest, I want you to tell me something, Doctor."

"And that is?"

"Tell me why you came to visit me, just before Wil left, and before I began traveling with you. You did promise to tell me you know, and I'm asking you now to fulfill that promise. Tell me, Doctor, why did you come back to Cardiff?"

The Time Lord's face suddenly turned phenomenally sad. Jack was sorely tempted to rescind his demand but stood his ground. _Honesty works both ways…_

"I wanted you to help me get my people back, my world back," The Doctor said softly. "I could no longer bear being the last one. The last of the Time Lords. Ever since the Crucible and the Medusa Cascade I had been obsessed with the idea. I thought: if Caan had broken the Time Lock, why couldn't I? But I didn't want to do it alone. I needed you. I wanted you to go back with me into the wild and fire and wind. So I came to Cardiff, Jack, to ask you to help me.

"But then, in the Hub when I thought I had lost you forever, I began to realize that in truth I did not want to look _backward_ with you, but what I really wanted was to look and more importantly to move _forward_ with you; and this is because I know without a doubt you… YOU, Captain Jack Harkness, are always inexorably and uncompromisingly moving forward…

"More than any person I've ever known you seem to grasp precisely and unerringly where you are and where you are going.

"And how I love and admire that about you, Jack… So I changed my mind about my people, my world, and my loneliness and desolation. I let go of them and decided instead to focus on what lies ahead. In some ways it was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made because at the same moment I let go of all of that, I also had to let go of my own guilt about the Time War. I had to forgive myself. And that guilt," the saddest of smiles graced The Time Lord's face, "had been my constant companion and dearest friend for such a very long time."

The sad smile disappeared. "But in other ways, thanks to you, it was the easiest decision I've ever made."

The Doctor was silent. Jack looked at him wondering what in the hell he could say in response. Nothing immediately came to mind and so the Captain nodded slowly, deliberately. "Thank you," he finally said. A bit insufficient, maybe; Jack shrugged inwardly. But then something else occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes, "Was any of that bullshit?"

The Doctor smiled wickedly but shook his head firmly, "No, not a word of it. By the way, did you just call me stupid?"

Jack laughed. "Have I ever told you that you really should take something for that attention surplus disorder of yours?"

"I didn't know there was a treatment for it," The Doctor chuckled, but then he turned serious. "So Jack, is there anything else you want to ask me?"

Jack looked at the Time Lord long and hard before finally answering. "What Rose did to me, Doctor, this resurrection business? Will I ever die?"

"I can't tell you that, Jack."

"You can't or you _won't_?"

The Doctor wordlessly shook his head.

"Okay then, maybe you can answer me this," Jack was working earnestly to control his rising irritation. "Could _you_ take what Rose did away from me?"

"No Jack, I can't. I don't believe anyone can. You're an impossible thing and it seems you're stuck like that."

Jack nodded almost imperceptibly, and then exhaled a loud sigh as he shrugged. "You know, standing there like that blinking at me," he said, "you look so damned enigmatic."

The Doctor's face lit up, "Do I really? That's brilliant because I do try!"

"Yep. A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. That's you."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Jack."

"Oh will it?" The Captain raised an eyebrow.

"Well… just about," The Doctor grinned.


	22. Chapter 22

**TWENTYTWO**

Wil had taken John to the area of the ship where the spacesuits were stored.

"Skinsuits, powered armor suits, combat suits which employ breathable liquid in order to manage acceleration stresses and high pressure environments, multi-layered design suits that provide a great level of flexibility in protection against a variety of battle and non-battle conditions…" she was speaking quickly as John worked his way through the inventory. "All of them are smart. All will save your life with pharmacopeia and medibots if it is within their capabilities and the damage being treated is not too great. Most can sustain you comfortably for months; a few could do it indefinitely. Many incorporate built-in weaponry. You can also take along whatever additional weapons you think you may need," she motioned toward several armory cabinets. "You'll just have to…"

John caught her hand, "Wil, are you all right?"

Wil's breath caught in her throat. "Yes, what makes you think I'm not?"

John smiled at her and shook his head. "I think I know you well enough by now to be able to tell. The first clue is that you're talking so fast I can hardly keep up with you. The second is that you're not looking at me. The third is… well, let's leave it at that, shall we. Would you please explain what's going on…" he released her hand and bowed, "M'Lady?"

She blinked several times and with a start he realized she was blinking back tears. "I've been alone, one way or another, for what feels like so very long and now that I'm finally not, we're already splitting up," she explained. "I mean, I'm accustomed to being alone, I've spent much of my life alone, but I am having trouble adjusting to _this_. I didn't expect it to hurt so much, John…" she looked at him for a moment and then closed her eyes in pain.

"If you're worried about Jack," he half-whispered, "don't be. I promise I'll take good care of him. I always have. Really, trust me, he'll be fine. And I swear to you I'll bring him home in one piece. Besides," he chuckled softly, "in case you've not noticed, Jack's a bit hard to kill. Not that it makes me any less careful with him. Not in the least!"

"Oh John," she sighed. "It's not Jack."

"What? Who? Oh…" John peered at her and inhaled sharply. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She simply stared at him, her eyes greener than any eyes he'd ever seen. Yes, they were a singular, hothouse green, but with a psychic jerk he realized they were the beautiful green eyes of a normal human being, not a cosmic superhero. There were no electric charges of turquoise, no lightning bolts of gold. Their _humanness_ made them more beautiful than ever to him. And yet… and yet that being said, he couldn't quite get out of his mind a snippet of lyrics from a song Jack used to listen to, once upon a time: 'The eyes of a lover that hit like heat_…_ You know she's a little bit dangerous.' John dry-swallowed; dangerous, indeed. It was an understatement. He knew it instinctively: she was a whole lot of dangerous. All of his senses had been on high alert from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Wil, are you on the rebound?"

"What?"

"You know what a rebound relationship is?"

"Yes, I do. And no, I'm not!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes… maybe… no… Oh God, I don't know, John!"

"Come here," he said as he opened his arms wide. She moved to him and he hugged her, holding her tightly and yet tenderly to his chest. She buried her head against his neck and John could feel her warm tears. He closed his eyes and slowly, almost reluctantly, breathed in the scent of her hair.

"For once in my life I'm not going to take advantage of the situation," he said quietly, "though don't tell Jack because I'll never live it down." He leaned away and gently swept back an errant strand of hair that had fallen into one of her eyes. "I respect you too much to do that, Wil. And…" he looked away for a moment before locking eyes with her, "I'm starting to have feelings for you and I don't want to sully them. Not now. Not this way."

He released her and his eyes flashed as he stepped back, "Besides, you don't really know me, do you?" He shook his head, anger welling up in his breast. "That crap Jack told you about my being an explorer and a poet and a hero? If you believe that, then I've got a bridge over the River Thames to sell you… I am not a very nice man. Ask anyone who has spent time with me. I'm a cad and a scoundrel and a liar and a cheat. I've never been particularly trustworthy or loyal or faithful. I have a dreadful temper and a predisposition toward cruel and violent behavior." He almost snarled, "And those are my positive attributes, I doubt you'd want me to list the negative."

When she tried to interrupt him he waved his hand, dismissing whatever argument she was intending to make.

"And then there's Jack." His voice softened considerably. "I know I told you that he rescued me once from a terrible, terrible place. And he did. But he's saved my life countless times. On the other hand we've also almost killed each other – no less than over a shared lover. And I'm not talking about a romantic Hollywood fistfight here; I'm talking to-the-death_ mano-a-mano _across the depth and breadth of the galaxy." He shook his head. "I don't think I am prepared to get into a situation like that with him again, Wil. Does that make sense?"

She let out a small involuntary sob before nodding, "I'm so sorry," she said, "I never should've…"

That's when he took her in his arms and kissed her. His unreserved passion made her gasp. It was a deep, insistent, soul-splitting, world-shattering kiss, and it shook her down to her marrow. When they finally came up for air he murmured, "Please, don't be sorry. And don't be impatient. If there's one thing I know, we have time. I promise…"

Then he turned and walked out of the room.


	23. Chapter 23

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTYTHREE**

It was time.

The Doctor and Wil were ready to make the trek of roughly six miles back to his TARDIS.

John Hart and Jack Harkness were about to go on a trek that would take them 9,000 _million_ miles, to the farthest reaches of the solar system; out where the brown dwarf star's solar winds collided with the interstellar plasma flows. Out where that same brown dwarf star would appear like any other star against the incomparable blackness of outer space. And out where the star's gravitational influence was decreased to a mere shadow of itself.

Jack pulled something silvery out of his greatcoat pocket. "Doctor, I'm thinking you might want this _gimmicky gadget_ of yours back."

The Doctor grinned. "Oh! My sonic screwdriver! Thank you, Jack. That was very nice of you to keep it safe for me.

"Well," the Lord of Time continued cheerfully as he safely stowed away his sonic, "does anyone have any last words?"

"Is he always so bloody chipper?" muttered John. Jack shushed him and then cleared his throat.

"Yes," the Captain announced, "I do." He walked over to where Wil was standing and extended his right hand. "I want to apologize for what I said earlier and how I behaved. If I might be allowed to paraphrase one of my most favorite actors in one of my _most_ favorite movies, our problems don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy universe." Jack winked at her as she took his hand between hers and held it. He leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek and then smiled, "Here's looking at you kid."

"Jack," she said as she slowly released his hand, fingertips lingering momentarily as her cheeks went a bit pink. "Gandhi said that forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. You have proven it. Thank you for forgiving me."

"But can _you_ forgive _me_?" he asked her.

"Without forgiveness, there's no future," she smiled.

"Aw," The Doctor interrupted. "Desmond Tutu! Such a wonderful man!"

Both Jack and Wil flashed him annoyed looks, but as intended the spell had successfully been broken.

John Hart loudly cleared his throat. "It would appear that all the good quotes have been taken. No matter, actions sometimes speak louder than words." He stepped forward and at the same time began unbuckling his leather wrist strap.

"It occurs to me that one of you," he looked first at The Doctor and then at Wil, "should take this. You see, it has the ability to communicate via subspace with Jack's wristband." He handed it to Wil and pointed at a small blue button. "You see that? Observe. If I press it three times in quick succession it lights up. And…" He walked over to Jack, reached out and held up the Captain's left arm, "at the same time Jack's lights up as well. It's a very basic form of communication but its bidirectional, and what it lacks in complexity is made up for by speed because the signal is transmitted superluminally." He raised an eyebrow as he walked back to Wil. "Here, let me help you put it on," he said.

She felt her heart skip a beat as their eyes met and he took her hand in his.

By now Jack had recovered sufficiently from the shock to speak. "John, are you sure you want to give that up?" he asked incredulously.

John glanced at him. "Yes, Jack. It's already done. I suggest it be used as an emergency call for help."

An expression of surprise crossed Jack's face but any further comment was prevented by The Doctor, who had joined John and Wil.

There was a look of concern playing across the Time Lord's face. "There isn't anything dangerous about that thing is there?"

John shrugged, "It's no more dangerous than Jack's."

"Well… that makes me feel a whole lot better."

John shook his head, "It's currently not in a weaponized mode. In order to change that I'd have to reconfigure it and it is keyed exclusively to my DNA. No one else can alter its settings. In its present configuration it is totally and absolutely harmless."

"Good, good," answered The Doctor, still sounding a bit skeptical. "I wouldn't want us accidentally opening up a black hole or anything."

John shot Jack a questioning look but said nothing.

"We're off then!" announced The Doctor.

"Wil, one last thing," Jack said before she turned and followed The Doctor out the door. "Take care of him."

He had a smile on his face but it did not reach his eyes.


	24. Chapter 24

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTYFOUR**

After The Doctor and Wil left the two men were quiet, each lost in his own thoughts.

Jack was thinking about The Doctor, and doing a strange sort of mental countdown. He figured the more time that passed the less likely it was the Time Lord would come back for him.

In reality, Jack wasn't very happy about the splitting of the team. He understood the reasoning behind it, and agreed at least theoretically it was the only logical way to proceed, but that didn't make it any more palatable. Actually, the truth be told, it wasn't the splitting as much as _how_ the team had been split – it was being separated from The Doctor which made the Captain really unhappy. It just didn't sit right with him. Jack knew he was being silly and he chided himself soundly for focusing on such petty sentiments. But at the same time there was a small corner of his brain, and a big piece of his heart, which very much wanted The Doctor to come roaring back through the door exclaiming that a mistake had been made, that he'd really meant for Jack to come with him. That he _needed_ Jack.

But Jack knew the longer that he waited the less and less probable it was that this particular fantasy would come true.

As for John, he was thinking about Wil. And about the feelings he was experiencing. He always liked falling in love… in fact he _loved_ falling in love. And he was familiar enough with the condition to know the signs and recognize it was happening to him. _Again._ The symptoms were all there: the thrill, the distraction, the breathlessness, the aching. But what terrible timing! Especially considering that in addition to those heart-pounding, gut-wrenching romantic feelings there was also a distinctly recognizable flush of fierce testosterone-fueled competitiveness and that… THAT was just in no way, shape or form productive. John sighed involuntarily and Jack turned to him.

"What is it?" the Captain asked.

"Oh, nothing," John lied.

Jack scowled and narrowed his eyes. "What was that back there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your wristband. I have never seen you willingly give it up before. Not once. Not _ever_. What gives?"

John shrugged, "I don't know. It just felt like the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do?! Since when have you been concerned about doing the right thing?"

"Oi! What do you mean? I have a conscience. I have morals."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I don't believe I'm hearing this. Something's up. I'll ask you again, what is it?"

John Hart imagined trying to ask Jack what his intentions were concerning Wil and then imagined trying to avoid the Captain's fist as it flew toward his nose. John quickly decided it obviously wasn't the proper time or place to discuss her, so he reached for a plausible response to the question and luckily for him nailed one squarely on the head. "I'm worried about them. Hell, I'm worried about _us_. I don't like that we've had to split up, Jack. It seems wrong-headed to me and I wish it wasn't necessary. Giving them my wristband felt like the least I could do, considering we're not going to be able to communicate otherwise."

Jack relaxed his stance and nodded thoughtfully. "I agree with you. I don't like it either. And you're right, John. That was good thinking."

John smiled, hoping he didn't look _too_ relieved. Then he decided perhaps a diversion was in order.

"Jack, have you seen the outside of this ship?"

"No, why?"

"Well, let's have a look."

The two of them walked out the door and as they did Jack relinquished the last vestige of hope that his Time Lord might return; there was no sign of them. _Of him…_

Then he noticed what John was talking about.

"Holy cow! A beach house?" he exclaimed, his eyes going wide.

"Wil called it a cabaña."

"Ah."

John's eyes narrowed, "Except I think where the big potted plants are now there were two wooden chairs earlier..."

"Whatever," Jack smiled wryly.

"Do you think we're stuck with it, Jack? It'd be pretty lame showing up looking like this."

The Captain shrugged, "Well, The Doctor manages well enough with the police box, but I don't know. Shall we try to find out? We should probably start making preparations to depart, at any rate." He looked at his watch. "I reckon it will take a little over two hours for Wil and The Doctor to arrive back at his TARDIS. We should be well away by then."

John saluted snappily, "Aye-aye, sir! Your orders?"

Jack smiled and saluted back. "Let's shake out the sails, secure the halyard and get ready to cast off."

The two walked back into the ship and Jack closed and locked the doors.

"John?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"About what happened earlier, you know, what was going on between us before Wil showed up?"

"You mean the sex?"

Jack rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I guess that's what I mean…"

"It was nice, Jack. And it was _good_ sex. But I know that it wasn't really you."

Jack's eyes softened along with his voice, "That's not entirely true, John. It's not that I don't want you. I will always want you." He shook his head. "But it's just that things are so complicated now."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure. They just are. And I don't think that I want to spend time talking about it at the moment. I just wanted you to know that I would never ever hurt you, John, not in _that_ way. And that I know I have some explaining of my own to do..."

John nodded. "That's okay, Jack. When you're ready to talk, I'm here. I always will be."

There was a long silence before Jack broke it with a sly smile. "_You always will be?_ You're so full of shit, John." The Captain's eyes sparkled as his grin widened, "Come on partner, shall we get to work?"


	25. Chapter 25

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTYFIVE**

Wil and The Doctor had hiked for several kilometers; the only sounds their rhythmic breathing and their footfalls against the hard ground.

The silence was finally broken by Wil, "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"I'm wondering if that was your doing back there."

"What do you mean?"

"Jack's apology."

The Time Lord shook his head, "No, I had nothing at all to do with it. That was one hundred percent unadulterated Captain Jack Harkness."

"Really?"

"You don't believe me?"

"Well, Jack tends to hang on to his feelings."

"Yes, he does."

She stopped, pulled out a water bottle and offered it to him. He shook his head again and waited while she drank.

"And I know that I've hurt him badly," she acknowledged.

"Yes, you have."

Wil smiled thinly as she stowed her bottle. "Thanks for understanding. Not much of a conversationalist, are you?"

"I can be, when I have something to say."

"Are you telling me you have _nothing _to say about Jack?"

"Oh, I do indeed. I'm just not certain you want to hear it."

"What do you mean?"

He said nothing.

"Go ahead."

He considered and then nodded thoughtfully. "Jack apologized, but he didn't say that he'd forgiven you. You're the one who first used that word. You made an assumption."

"But…"

"Think about it."

She flashed her eyes at him and they resumed hiking. After a few minutes she glanced sidelong at the Time Lord and sighed. "You're right; I assumed that was what he was saying. I jumped at it. I guess I've been so hoping…"

"Wil, he didn't _disagree_ with you. But as you say Jack does have a very long memory and I suspect he's still hurt and angry. But he's making an effort to set those feelings aside for the good of the team. You know as well as I that above all else Jack's a hero, and that the success of the mission will always come first."

"Oh God," she said sadly, "I wish he could just forget I ever existed." She looked at The Doctor almost pleadingly, "You know, like when Spock makes Kirk forget Rayna in _Requiem for Methuselah_."

With a firm hand on her shoulder he stopped her. "But why? Why would you want to do that? Jack is a better person for having known you. A better man for having fallen in love with you. He gained so much from your relationship and yet you would seek to take that from him? Again I ask you _why_? Because you hurt and angered him?"

"YES! Are those not good enough reasons? I loved him. I still love him. Why would I want to be the cause of such pain?"

"Because you had no choice?" He shrugged but then he looked at her coolly. "And because in the end it was what you wanted?" She glared at him angrily but he continued unabated, "I know that what happened to you only happened because you wanted it, you embraced it. You encouraged it. I offered you a gift – an opportunity – and you grabbed it and ran with it. What you did was brave and it was altruistic and it was wise and it was bold but it was also selfish and self-serving. And that's okay, really. We're all of us driven by complex forces. None of us are simple or simplistic creatures. In truth you had few choices and you did the only thing you could do – the _right_ thing. But you hurt Jack in the process. He's still picking up the pieces, Wil.

"The question is," he peered at her closely, "are you going to hurt him again?"

Her answer was unexpected. "How I wish," she said softly, as if only to herself, "that cup could be taken from me."

He looked at her curiously but did not speak.

"It feels to me like no matter what happens here I will end up hurting him. I accepted it as a _fait accompli_ before I came back, but knowing it intellectually and living it emotionally are two very different things." She smiled, but it was not a particularly happy smile.

"If I remain in this universe, Doctor, I will hurt him. My presence would confound his life and confuse his heart. So I cannot remain here, but I will hurt Jack in a different manner by leaving him again. I _have to_ leave and you more than anyone knows this to be true. Assuming you allow it – and I well know you can stop me, you can take back the gift you gave me – Grasshopper and I will disappear when we are finished with this _mission_, as you call it. My previous work is not yet complete, but that is not the real reason why I must leave. It is, however, the excuse I will give Jack and the excuse I suspect you will encourage him to accept. But you know the _real_ reason, don't you?"

After a time he nodded.

Now it was her turn to shrug. "Good, then we are accomplices, but our conspiracy is solely for the ultimate good of all."

"Jack is gonna kill me," he smiled faintly, wondering if she recalled when he'd spoken the exact same words to her, once upon a time, long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away.

She smiled back knowingly, remembering perfectly, "Only if he finds out. But if he does, I don't think he'll kill you, Doctor. He may punch out your lights – I'd watch out for his left hook if I were you."

The Time Lord laughed heartily, as always enjoying the radiant symmetry.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"What about you?"

"Me? Oh, I always thought Spock made a mistake when he did that to Kirk."

"No, I mean…"

"I know what you mean, Wil. Water off a duck."

"Really?"

He thought for a long moment, "Not always and not often, but this time? Yes. You've earned your second chance."

The Doctor offered his arm to her and she took it gratefully.


	26. Chapter 26

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTYSIX**

"Captain Harkness?"

"Yes Captain Hart?"

The two men were hunched intently over bridge consoles learning what they could, as fast as they were able, about their new ship.

"Along with the graviton shields and ablative armor that Wil mentioned earlier, it would appear this vessel has highly advanced cloaking capabilities as well as several other forms of stealth technology that I've never encountered before."

Jack turned and looked at John's profile curiously, waiting for him to continue; he was not disappointed.

"In reality I don't think it matters much what the ship looks like on the outside. For all intents and purposes she can become invisible to most, if not all, of the EM spectrum." John paused and grinned, "But wait, there's more, because she evidently has holographic cloaking as well, and this is so cool, Jack…"

John glanced sidelong at Jack and saw the Captain grimace. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I being insensitive?" he asked glibly.

Jack scowled. "No, it's okay, John," he replied not a little facetiously. "The pain and suffering this ship caused me in the past is now over and done with. Go ahead and call her the greatest thing since sliced bread, it won't bother me. I'm moving on. Moving ahead. Getting on with my life..."

Shaking his head, John Hart continued as if there'd been no interlude. "Right, there's holographic cloaking and other sophisticated forms of smart optical camouflage. In fact, if I were a betting man…" Jack snickered, knowing full well John was capable of wagering away his own mother if the situation called for it, "I'd venture what we were seeing on the outside of the ship doesn't even exist except in our minds." He shrugged, "And in the imagination of the ship. In other words…"

"In other words," Jack interrupted him, "it wasn't real." The Captain nodded at John thoughtfully. "You're right, that is cool. And it answers at least one important question. But it also gives me an idea for a plan."

"And that is?"

"Well, we need to move in closer to get a better idea of what's going on out there. It sounds like the cloaking will let us peer through the window without being seen. The more quality time we have to figure out what we need to do next, the better, as far as I'm concerned. I wasn't looking forward to walking up naked and knocking on the front door."

John shrugged. "There is always something to be said for full-frontal nudity."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, did I say full-frontal nudity?" John smiled. "I meant directness… that there's always something to be said for directness."

Jack grinned for a moment but then turned serious again. "Yeah, I know. And I'd normally agree with you that directness has its advantages. But something tells me that in this particular case… maybe not so much."

"Fair enough. So what's next?"

"I'd recommend you give the order, Captain."

John proffered a two finger salute, "Aye-aye Captain! Grasshopper, commence silent running, and prepare to bring us into spitting distance of yonder beachhead."

Jack pulled a face, "_Spitting distance?_ _Yonder beachhead?_"

John smiled charmingly, "Well, she is Wil's ship after all."

"Ah, rightly said," Jack nodded.

"Make it so!" John ordered.

Out of habit Jack threw out his arms and grabbed for the console. To his shock anchoring himself wasn't necessary. For a moment there was a slight swooshing sound, and a number of the monitors blinked a few times before rendering quite different images than they were displaying previously.

The Captain sheepishly brought his arms back to his sides. "Wow," he said. "Is that it?"

John spun round in his chair and looked at the display in front of him, and then he looked over at Jack, amazement on his face. "It would appear that's it."

Jack stood, went to one of the larger display screens and whistled softly. "It's big," he said in a hushed voice. "It's roughly spherical, although slightly oblate, and has an equatorial diameter of about 140,000 kilometers. My God, John, it's nearly the size of Jupiter! It's like the fucking Death Star."

"Say what?"

"Never mind. The exterior surface is primarily liquid metallic hydrogen, but there's something beneath the hydrogen – a hollow interior core. The whole mess is rotating, probably to generate gravity. I would guess that interior core is the business end of this behemoth. The core seems to contain some sort of atmosphere, except not the kind of atmosphere you and I would be very comfortable in – it's mostly methane, ammonia, ethane, sulfur and some silicon-based compounds. The internal temperatures and pressures are not very conducive to better living either. Damn it…"

"Huh?"

"We're going to have to EVA."

"Yeah, sorry about that Jack. Get over it. Do you think there's any chance we've been detected?"

"Well, we're still alive aren't we? So I'd say no."

"What about space monsters?"

Jack shook his head, "I'm not seeing any life signs being identified, but I'm not sure whatever could survive in those conditions would even show up as alive on these monitors."

John rose from his chair, "Time to kick the tires and light the fires?"

Jack nodded pensively but did not move. "What's the matter?" John asked him.

"I'm wondering how in the hell we're going to take out something this _big_."

"And I'll answer you by asking how can we _not_ take it out? Think of all the firepower this ship has, Jack! And just you wait until you see what's inside the armory lockers! Oh, I've got some good ideas already…" John's eyes were luminescent. "And knowing you, you'll undoubtedly come up with even better ones. Come on partner, let's get going!"

"Right," said Jack as he followed John out the door. "Lock and load."

The fact that the Captain didn't sound super-enthusiastic did not bother John Hart in the least.


	27. Chapter 27

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTYSEVEN**

Wil and The Doctor hiked in untroubled silence for several more kilometers. But after about the seventh klick Wil unhooked her arm from his and slowed her pace.

"Are you okay?" The Doctor asked.

She sighed tiredly. "I'm not accustomed to the heavier than normal gravity – I typically keep Grasshopper at slightly less than a standard Earth gee, and this planet clocks in at about one-point-four gees. I mean I don't think I'm terribly out of shape, but I could sure use a water break, Doctor."

They stopped; she opened up her bottle and offered him some. The Doctor took a couple of sips and handed it back to her. She drank deeply and then looked at him. "How about you? How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine! Having two hearts helps in these kinds of situations. Plus I have some other physiological advantages. Beyond that, I didn't recently spend nearly three hours lugging Jack's heavy carcass back to your ship." He looked at her worriedly, slipped off his coat and laid it out on the tall grass. "Let's rest for a few minutes, shall we?"

Wil nodded and folded herself onto the ground. He followed suit and fussed with one of his shoelaces for a moment before continuing to speak. "This regeneration is one of the most robust I've ever had, at least in some ways," The Doctor elaborated while still staring at his shoes, not really checking to see if she was interested in the topic or not. "I was given the physique and stamina of a long distance runner this time around. While I can sprint when I need to, my true strength is in distance. And I'm strong… stronger than a lot of my previous regenerations. Not the strongest, mind you, but I've managed to surprise myself a few times. Oh… I don't know," he leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the sky, "but I reckon I'll miss this body when I move on. It's been a good body."

"What's it like?" she asked.

"What's what like?"

"Moving on?"

"Well… it's scary. And exciting. The actual event carries some baggage along with it, you know, implications which often aren't pleasant, but regeneration is a part of life for me. Something I've always known about and accepted. It's like, I suppose, catching a cold for a human being. It's one of those things – part of the package deal of being a Time Lord.

"Still, it differentiates me from many of the people I care truly and deeply about – those people who are not Time Lords – and makes relationships with them…" he swallowed, carefully considering the next word, "problematic."

"I can imagine… Um, except for Jack?"

"Yes, of course. Except for Jack. He's the anomaly."

Wil laughed, "I'm sure he'd love to know you called him that!"

The Time Lord smiled but then murmured, as if he was speaking only to himself, "The gift Rose bestowed upon Jack was a gift for me as well. I'm not sure she ever realized that."

He relaxed himself fully on to his back and looked up at the sky.

Wil waited a long time before responding, unsure if he was expecting or even wanting a response. "Doctor, I'm absolutely certain Rose knows_ exactly_ what she's given you. And I'm sure she'd be very pleased to learn the two of you are taking care of each other, and will continue to do so far into the future. Just as it pleases me."

With that Wil lay down flat and snuggled her head against The Doctor's shoulder. The two were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts until after a few minutes she broke the silence and asked, "So what's the plan?"

"Oh… I don't know," he yawned. "I guess we walk up to her like I own her, which I do, kind of." He sat up, thinking. "It's a two-pronged assault. You're wetware. I'll need you to get into her programming, determine what if anything has been rewritten. I'll work with her wiring and other hardware systems to figure out if something _physical_ has been done to her. We won't have much time; once she knows we're poking around, things could get dicey and quickly."

The Doctor stood and offered Wil his hand. As she rose off the ground she grabbed his coat and handed it to him. "What about Spike?" she asked.

"Spike? You mean the cat? How do you know about him?"

"John reminded me. He's been quite worried."

"Yeah, me too. The poor little critter has been alone for a long time. Once we get inside we'll need to tend to him, first. Then, when that's been taken care of, we'll commence our coordinated attack."

"And assuming our coordinated attack is successful?" she wondered out loud.

"Well, once we've taken care of the easy stuff, then we go rescue John and Jack – who I'm sure by that point will be up to their eyeballs in trouble."


	28. Chapter 28

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTYEIGHT**

"No flipping way," growled Jack Harkness.

"But Jack! They're so cool! And I've always wanted to try it!"

"Breathe _liquid_? You're out of your fucking mind, John. I am not going to agree to immerse myself in fluorocarbon fluids just because you think it's cool. Besides – my God! – didn't you pay attention to the specs? The suit surgically inserts a connector into your thoracic cavity as well as fills all your other _natural_ orifices." Jack grimaced at the thought.

"But it makes sense too, Jack. We both know it'll help us deal with the high gee forces."

Jack shook his head, "We're only talking about six gees; the more conventional suits will do us just fine in that regard." He shook a finger in John's face, "And wearing one of those claustrophobic hermetically sealed rebreather nightmares is bad enough as it is. Nope, forget about submerging yourself in liquid, John. Some fetishes should be kept to yourself."

"Oh, for God's sake, Jack, you're…"

"Yes, yes, I know; a stick-in-the-mud."

"No, Jack. You're boring. When did you become boring?"

The only response was a cold stare.

"Seriously! I mean I think I know the answer already but I want to hear it coming from the horse's mouth. Of all the people in the universe, you should be the _least_ concerned with health and safety. You're fucking immortal, Jack!"

"_Almost_ immortal…"

"Yeah, right. But it's not that, is it? It's something else. Or should I say some _one_ else? Come on, Jack, admit it. It's just the two of us and I won't tell…"

"Shut up, John."

John rolled his eyes. "So… No breathing liquid?"

The cold stare returned.

John groaned but knew that he'd lost the battle. He conceded gracefully, "Okay then, how about these suits that resemble what you and The Doctor wore aboard the Newhope? What do you think of them? They'll be a lot more flexible than those gigantic armored combat suits and we can compensate by outfitting ourselves from the weapons lockers."

Jack's eyes hungrily traveled to the armories. Their contents were indeed impressive and John had been correct earlier, Jack Harkness was getting ideas. Lots of ideas. "We need to muster as many weapons as we can and as large a variety as possible without seriously impacting our mobility." The Captain nodded toward the lockers, "I really like those charges."

"Which ones?" John asked.

"All of them. But particularly the tricobalt packs. Something tells me that having the ability to tear a hole in subspace may be to our advantage. But the conventional explosive charges, especially those really small micro-packets that we can hide in _unconventional_ places," Jack winked at John, "may come in handy, too. Even the Death Star had a fatal design flaw, and our latest EM schematics seem to indicate a massive centralized power source inside the core. That feels like a potential Achilles' heel to me, what about you?"

John grinned boyishly but then shook his head, "You know, Captain Harkness, I only understand about half of what you're saying. If you ask me, and I notice you haven't, you've lived on Earth for far too long. But if you're suggesting that we may want to try to blow up the beachhead's main power plant, I'm in full agreement." His eyes sparkled. "And can I just say it? Damn but I love this bit."

"What bit?"

"You are so sexy, Jack, when you're weaponing up. It may take you a while to get there, but there's no one who comes close to you once you've decided you want in the fight. You're incomparable! I mean look at you! Your face is positively glowing. And I swear – your eyes are an even brighter blue than usual. My God, but you are hot, Captain Jack Harkness."

Jack winked. "Easy John. Calm down, you're embarrassing me."

"_Embarrassing you?_ With those fifty-first century pheromones of yours? I doubt it."

The next words that came out of Jack's mouth gave John a visceral thrill. They were a variation of the tail end of their very first conversation – a conversation that took place just after they'd met as newly assigned partners at the Time Agency. A few minutes after that first conversation ended those same two men were making ferocious love, just as they'd continued to do each day subsequently, up until and including the day Jack left him. Never let it be said that emotional turmoil got in the way of the good Captain's libido.

Jack's next words, and the words that followed, were a well-worn, comfortable and comforting dialogue they'd repeated innumerable times after that first gloriously savage encounter.

"Captain Hart, are you flirting with your new partner?"

"Captain Harkness, are you flirting with yours?"

"As I stand here it's not a hard thing to do."

"And as I stand here, I'd say something's very hard indeed."

"And growing harder by the second…"

"As a Time Agent," John's eyes sparkled, "it is my sworn duty to meticulously inspect such compelling phenomena."

Jack chuckled, diverging from the familiar script and gently breaking the spell, though the shared comfort – tinted with a distinct aura of desire – lingered. "I will love you forever and always, John Hart. But what do you say we saddle up?"

John nodded. "I will always love you too, Jack Harkness. But if I have to save your sorry ass one more time…"

The Captain hooted with laughter.

"…I will." John added quietly with a grin. _Or I'll die trying…_


	29. Chapter 29

**FORGIVENESS**

**TWENTYNINE**

"What? WHAT?!" yelped The Doctor.

He and Wil were standing about two hundred yards from where his TARDIS was _supposed_ to be.

"I swear, Doctor. That's where she was. I am sure of it." Wil looked down at something on the wrist which was currently _not_ home to John's leather strap.

"What's that you've got there?" asked The Doctor, peering over her shoulder.

"It's a kind of universal GPS which makes use of a planet's gravitational acceleration variances. Well, it's a lot of things, including a normal every-day wristwatch, but the geo-positioning function helps me to not get lost, which I admit I tend to do every once in awhile because I sometimes don't pay attention to where I've been or where I'm going."

"Ah! I know just what that's like. Well, what does it say?"

"It says the location that I fetched you, John and Jack from is yonder down this hill right there." Pointing at the suspect spot, she sighed loudly. "And now it appears your ship's gone missing."

"Absolutely," muttered The Doctor as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He activated it and the sonic hummed softly in his hand. "Hmm… _most_ curious."

"What?"

"According to this," he waved the screwdriver in front of her face, "my TARDIS is still down there. It seems she doesn't want us to see her so she's hiding." A look of surprise mixed with more than a little bit of pride graced his face. "She's camouflaged herself!"

"WHAT?!"

"Exactly! Something has been messing with her chameleon circuit, and by _messing with_ I mean it's been fixed. And by _something_ I mean… well, I'm not sure what I mean."

With his free hand he started rummaging around in his coat pocket. "But I've got this!" He triumphantly pulled out his exceptionally unexceptional-looking TARDIS key. "To cleverly modify a common idiom, she can hide but she can't run. Come on!"

"Uh, Doctor, we purposefully left her unlocked," Wil said as they hurried down the hill, "but if she's hiding, that implies she doesn't want you to find her. Do you think you'll still be able to get inside?"

"Oh yes! Whether she's locked or not, as long as I have my key she can't stop me. There are very old, in fact ancient protections built into her. Built into her very _being_; you might even say built into her _soul_. They are absolutely organic to her. They come from the Rassilon Imprimatur that links us together, which enduringly and unconditionally joins us as one. And those ancient, fundamental safeguards include neither obstructing or harming me. To do so would contradict her very reason for existence; to go against those protocols would literally tear her apart – she'd no longer be a TARDIS."

"Ah!" Wil exclaimed somewhat breathlessly. "Then following your logic, if she'd been entirely assimilated… if her code had been totally overwritten at that basic of a level, she'd no longer be a TARDIS and she'd not have a chameleon circuit. Thus, she wouldn't be able to hide. And your sonic wouldn't detect her?"

"Precisely!"

"So the news isn't all bad?"

"Quite the contrary!"

"What do you mean?"

"While we breathe we hope," he murmured almost under his breath.

"Come again?"

"Oh, sorry! You've been out of circulation for a while haven't you? It's something someone said recently in a speech on your home planet, and I do like hope, Wil. I like it a lot! I like it as much as I like idealism and optimism and confidence and faith. But never mind about that… It's just that I'm feeling quite extraordinarily lucky at the moment. Lucky _and_ hopeful!" He looked askance at her as they approached their destination. "Are you ready to get to work?"

"What about Spike?"

"I'm afraid he's going to have to wait a bit longer. I may be feeling lucky, but I also feel like we don't have a lot of time. But there's nothing new about that, is there? _Avanti!_"


	30. Chapter 30

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTY**

"Jack?"

"Yes, John?"

"What do you think those are?"

"I don't know. They look like some sort of gigantic honeycomb structure."

"Yeah, but what do you think they _are_?"

"Can you not keep quiet for even five minutes?"

Pause.

"Jack?"

"Yes, John?"

"What do you have against chatter?"

"What do you mean?"

"In situations like this you're always telling me to keep quiet. I mean it isn't like anyone else is around to hear us."

"Now how could you possibly know that, John?"

"Well, it's been nearly an hour since we left the ship, I reckon we have walked several miles and we've not seen anything or heard anything to indicate that we're not totally alone."

"Yeah, and doesn't that just creep you out?"

"Oh, you betcha…"

"God, John, you're doing it again. Can you just _not_ talk?"

"Nope, not when I'm with you."

"Oh pray tell why."

"Because I love hearing the sound of your voice."

John heard Jack snicker over the com.

It was true, John reflected. The more he knew that someone – especially Jack, it appeared – wanted him to shut up, the less likely it seemed he actually would. That was just the way he was wired. He shrugged inwardly, not only was he an opportunist, but he was a contrarian as well. And a damned good one, no matter what anyone else said…

Both men carried handheld scanners they had come across in one of the ship's weapons lockers. They'd parked Grasshopper in what seemed to be a very quiet and out-of-the-way corner of the core, according to the various energy readings they'd gotten before they materialized. But by now it had become obvious not just that corner but the entire core itself was strangely, eerily quiet. This had been Jack's point. It was far _too_ quiet…

But the scanners, which were in detect-anything-remotely-interesting mode, weren't detecting a thing beyond a sort of dull, throbbing EM pulse that was coursing throughout the entire cellular-like structure. Up ahead of them the pulse seemed to intensify; they assumed its source was a potential if not likely target – what Jack had called the _Achilles' heel_. Their helmets' HUDs were also set to full-sensor sweep. If a beachhead cockroach farted a mile away, John ruminated, they'd detect it. So if that was the case… why… Why did he think that he saw something move just now? Saw something move with his own two eyes? Saw it and yet it didn't seem register on any of their sensors?

"Jack?"

"Yes, John?"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"I thought I saw something shift at about two o'clock."

John watched as Jack's eyes looked down at his handheld scanner and then up in the general direction he'd indicated. Happily, and unlike a lot of space helmets that John had become acquainted with over the years, the interior of these bleeding-edge babies was lit in such a way as to clearly display the entire face of the occupant. He could even see the faint wrinkles around Jack's beautiful blue eyes. Wrinkles he'd known were there but had never really _noticed_ before. You know? Wrinkles that sort of matched his own…

Jack stopped, and shined his torch in slow, methodical sweeps ahead of them. They were traversing a succession of large and dimly-lit spherical chambers. The honeycombing, as Jack had described it, ran along all surfaces of the cavernous rooms, even the floors, and the hexagonal cells' borders seemed to be carrying, or perhaps transmitting, the EM pulses, although those pulses were well above the visible spectrum. Their scanners had also detected a steady but inaudible hum at just past twenty-thousand hertz. Beyond that, there'd been no discernible sounds other than the two men's quiet footsteps. Even their occasional chatter was channeled solely through their helmets' com systems.

They were both well aware the whole place was awash in hard x-ray, gamma, chronometric, and other even more exotic radiation. Their suits were protecting them from it; otherwise they would've been dead the moment they'd left the ship. Still, the suits weren't perfect; some residual radiation always leaked through. Although at the moment he felt reasonably good, Jack well understood they would have to go through radiation decontamination later. The working theory was the radiation, the pulses, and even the background hum were all connected, and as the two men moved forward the radiation levels had steadily increased, thus the assumption that they were more than likely heading toward some type of high energy object.

_Not a bad working theory_, the Captain thought as he carefully studied the area illuminated by the beam of his torch. There was nothing there, but the place was indeed giving him the creeps. In his life the term _other-worldly_ had ceased being meaningful. But if it hadn't, it might describe what he was currently seeing. He'd been to so many strange places, and seen so many strange things, that he couldn't state there was something definitively wrong about what he was seeing now, and yet there was totally and absolutely nothing whatsoever right about it either. It simply didn't belong – and the sudden almost overwhelming realization of that one undeniable, incontrovertible fact literally took Jack's breath away.

The Captain turned to his friend, "We need to hurry."

"You saw something?"

"No, I didn't. But it doesn't matter. We need to hurry."

John glimpsed the unconcealed fear in Jack's eyes and the sight of it changed everything.


	31. Chapter 31

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTYONE**

"How's it coming?" The Doctor called to her across the control room.

Wil looked up from the console monitor. "It's going okay but I'm not finding anything!" Her voice was starting to sound a bit frantic. The lights had gone off the moment they entered the TARDIS and at the same time a low and distressing moan had started rumbling through the ship. While she hadn't exactly spurned them, the ship certainly wasn't doing anything to smoothly pave their way. "All the directories and files I've looked at appear untouched. How about you?"

The Doctor pulled his sonic, which he was using as a flashlight, out of his mouth and looked up from the mass of wires he'd been examining. "So far nothing!" He shook his head and added apologetically, "I was so sure we'd figure this out quickly, but I guess it's going to take longer than I expected." The Time Lord was down on his hands and knees working his way systematically through the normally hidden areas of the TARDIS which lay beneath the floor. It was backbreaking and dirty work; it'd been a long,_ long_ time since anyone had cleaned down there.

He knew her like the back of his hand, this ship, and was so familiar with every inch of her he was certain he'd notice immediately if even the tiniest little piece was amiss. But so far everything looked absolutely ship-shape and Bristol fashion. It was disconcerting. And, to make matters worse, he was beginning to discern the insidious and unproductive emergence of self-doubt. Could he have been wrong about her? Had he been irrationally optimistic? Might they not find what they so desperately needed to find? What they must find? Unbidden, Wil's earlier rhetorical remark had returned to haunt him: _What is a Time Lord without his TARDIS?_ He shuddered involuntarily. He knew the correct answer to that question but not only did The Doctor not want to admit it – he didn't even want to think about it.

He sat up and glanced at Wil. How ironic would that be? Here he was – a Time Lord from Gallifrey – potentially finding himself stranded without a TARDIS, while _she_ was in possession of one that he'd essentially handed over to her. Well… to be charitable, he'd not given the ship to her. He'd discarded it and she'd had the wisdom and forethought and courage to take advantage of the situation. He felt his eyes flash and then he chastised himself. He wasn't being fair. If it had solely been up to him, that other TARDIS would've been destroyed. He'd made a choice and Wil had made a choice as well. Unraveling those choices would bring into play actions and consequences he didn't want to contemplate. There would be no do-overs…

The Doctor dropped the floor panel with a loud bang and moved on to the next section. His initial burst of certainty had rapidly tempered. He'd had the temerity to imagine they would quickly if not immediately identify whatever it was they were looking for and nail it just as promptly. After all, this was _his_ ship. In fact, he had been _so_ positive of instant success that he'd found himself shocked when the situation clearly started going sideways. And since when had he been surprised by THAT?

As far back as he could remember nothing was ever as easy as it ought to be. It was one of those immutable laws of the universe. Why in Rassilon's name should he have expected things would be different this time?

Spike had finally come out of hiding and was rubbing himself ferociously against The Doctor's leg. "Mrroowww?" said the cat.

"Oh Spike. I'm sorry," the Time Lord sighed without looking up. "You're just going to have to wait to be fed. I know you're hungry but daddy's busy right now trying to help Uncle Jack." The keyboard clicks coming from Wil's direction paused for a moment and The Doctor thought he heard her stifle a giggle.

The animal had different ideas and was not to be appeased. He padded beneath the Time Lord's chest and was using a paw to bat at one of the brightly-colored cables which had been pulled from beneath the floor. "Spike! Stay out of the way!" The Doctor made as if to gently push the animal aside when his hand suddenly froze in mid-air as he stared at the cat.

It felt like a minute but it only took a few seconds, if that, for everything to click into place. "Of course!" The Doctor bellowed. Wil jerked her head up, wild-eyed, as Spike ran for cover.

"Of course!" He announced again, hitting his head with the palm of the aforementioned hand. "I'm such an idiot! We're going about this all wrong!" The Doctor quickly stuffed the jumble of wires back below the floor, slammed the section panel shut and jumped up.

"OF COURSE!" He raced to another part of the control room, yanked open the floor panel, fell to his hands and knees, and started rummaging around the space.

"AH HA! Found it!" He stood jubilantly holding a glowing blue-green object.

"What is it?" Wil had crossed over to his side.

"It's a TARDIS power cell and what we must do is give her _more_ power so that she can fight this on her own." He cupped the power cell lovingly in his hands and kissed the air above it. "We just need to give her – the TARDIS, my TARDIS, the best ship in the universe – the opportunity and wherewithal to cure herself!"

"But Doctor…" Wil looked at him in alarm, knowing full well what his words implied.

"Oh, it's okay Wil! What's a couple decades of my life compared to fixing the TARDIS? _Saving_ the TARDIS?" He laughed devilishly. "Besides, I've got plenty – more than enough to spare!" He blew a long, steady stream of warm air on the power cell, as if he was gently blowing out a candle. Its glow intensified.

"But Doctor! What if you're wrong? What if by contributing your life energy you empower the _wrong_ forces within her?"

"Aw… have a little faith, Wil. That's not what's going to happen." He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. "But if I am wrong, at least she's not the last TARDIS in existence, is she? There is another, thanks to you. We can't let this universe go on without a TARDIS, can we?" He couldn't help but notice she didn't answer him. He held his tongue and shrugged inwardly. _Well, I'd better be right, then…_

The Time Lord softly breathed a second time on the power cell and it became so dazzling that it brightly, almost painfully, illuminated the entire control room. "_Voila!_" he chirped as he carefully returned it to its proper location. "Now we wait."

"How long will it take?" she asked as he stood up again after replacing the floor panel.

"Not long at all! The last time I did this she was basically dead, so it took 24 hours. This time she is still very much alive. Plus, I'm double-dosing her. She'll be able to make use of this additional power quickly. We're super-charging the old girl! Like giving her an I.V. infusion! In fact…"

The lights flickered on and off a few times and then came on permanently. Wil following in his wake, The Doctor ran to the console, closed his eyes and pressed the side of his face to its surface, as if listening. "Oh, that's my good girl!" he exclaimed as he kissed the console, then straightened up to his full height and examined the central column. It had begun rising and falling slowly, as if it was taking breaths. As if it was a heart unhurriedly beating.

Wil watched him intently track the rotor's rhythmic rise and fall, and then his eyes briefly closed. She thought she saw a deep shadow cross his visage, but by the time she heeded it, it was gone. A moment later he was as he always is: bursting with unceasing motion.

As various systems buzzed to life The Doctor moved from one section of the console to another, twirling knobs, pressing buttons and tapping indicator lights. "Telepathic field, _check_. Translation circuit, _check_. Chameleon circuit – broken as normal – _check_. Fluid levels, _check_. Imprimatur integrity, _check_. Dimensional stabilizer, _check_. Vortex loop control, _check_. Tribophysical waveform macro kinetic extrapolator, _check_." Again he glanced at the central column, "Time rotor, _check_! All systems are go… except… except…"

He looked around almost frenziedly and Wil caught her breath. Then his eyes lit up, "Spike, _check_!" He walked to the cat, leaned over and gave him an affectionate rub on the head. "How about some tuna, Spike? I think we need to celebrate and then…" he looked up with a steady gaze at Wil. "We'll suit up and commence with the hard part."


	32. Chapter 32

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTYTWO**

It would be safe to say what they found was not what they'd expected.

The high energy object – the source of the EM pulses – was an extremely large assemblage of chronotron particles, which were bonded into oscillating atoms, which in turn were yoked into eccentric molecules congealed into still larger areas of mass. These areas of mass were bound together by undetectable, or perhaps more accurately, unidentifiable and highly exotic forces. From the smallest to the largest all of these "parts" behaved independently. This independence of behavior was not evidenced by physical movement, per se, but rather by a sort of quantum motion. According to their scanners the whole structure was subatomically vibrating. All of its highly peculiar pieces were humming in different quantum keys. _And perhaps,_ Jack thought, _rumbling with some kind of imperceptible intelligence._

The EM source itself did not pulse or glow or howl or emit anything that made it seem particularly dangerous. It was just there, humming along, and it was in many ways fantastically uninteresting. That is, uninteresting until you looked at the enormous amounts of strikingly strange energy it was emitting.

Which is why John exclaimed, "What?" when he first saw it.

Jack looked at his scanner and frowned. "This is just so bizarre," he said, "I don't understand how this thing can exist, although I suppose it really shouldn't surprise me considering where we are."

"How so?"

"Well, the usual laws of physics just don't appear to apply here. Nothing that my scanner is displaying makes sense. It's all distortion fields and warped realities and improperly behaving matter and impossible energy signatures. What we're seeing seems unimaginable."

"And yet there it is."

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "There it is."

"And we're not here to analyze it; we're here to blow it up, right?"

"Right…"

"Although it doesn't look very dangerous, does it?"

"Oh God, there's where I think you're wrong," Jack replied after taking a very deep breath. "What I think is that we're not really seeing it. It's like the radiation permeating this place – we can't see it but it can kill us. I don't believe we're able to see with our eyes, or even detect with our pathetically inadequate sensory instruments, the tiniest sliver of what's actually here. I know you want facts, John, but all I can tell you is what I'm feeling, and I'm feeling that we have been and still are in the midst of something terrible."

"Jack?"

"Yes, John?"

Captain John Hart shook his head and looked into the eyes of Captain Jack Harkness. "I don't need facts; your feelings are quite good enough for me. _Always_. Let's light this sucker up."

Jack smiled at John. "Good! You cover me while I place the charges."

It was at this precise moment John first noticed that Jack's face, despite the tense situation, looked, well… to be honest, breathtakingly gorgeous. The creases around the Captain's eyes had totally disappeared. The touches of gray in his beard, which was now several days old and fuller than John had ever seen it before, were gone. In fact, Jack's face looked thinner, his skin smoother, softer, fresher. With a start John realized Jack's face had unquestionably changed.

John Hart gasped. "Jack! Your eyes!"

"What about them?" Jack blinked at him.

"It's like you've traveled in the wayback machine, Jack. You look young!"

"What?"

John was breathing hard. Fight or flight had hit bigtime; he'd already connected the dots. "You look like you did when I first met you. Your eyes, your face… Jack. Look at me, Jack. I mean really look at my face. Has it changed?"

Jack really didn't need to look, "Subspace conduits… Chronotron particles… Spacetime distortions…" It sounded like he was rambling incoherently, but he wasn't. He'd connected the dots, too, and the picture wasn't pretty. "I should've seen it, John. My God, the timescape! This is a _temporal_ vortex, we're both much younger than we just were, and… and… Oh shit, John. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! I'm mortal again!"

"Jesus Fucking Christ. We need to get out of here, Jack!"

"NO! We came here on a mission and we're going to complete it. Now cover me while I place the damn charges."

"But Jack…"

The Captain had already started walking away, "Just because someone's changed the rules, John, doesn't mean the game isn't still on."

John quickly stowed his scanner, pulled out one of the directed-energy weapons he'd brought along, clicked off the safety, placed it on its highest setting, and harmlessly aimed the muzzle downward, pointing it at the floor. He watched fixedly as Jack moved away from him, toward the high energy object, and then observed, incredulously, as his friend, the Captain, crumpled lifelessly to the ground. There had been no sound, no precipitating visual event, and absolutely no warning. Although there was nothing to shoot at, John reflexively raised his weapon and discharged it above Jack's fallen form. Or at least he tried to. Nothing happened when he fired it. He tried again; the weapon was non-functional, and as John raced over to Jack he realized with sudden and horrific clarity their charges were likely non-functional as well. _Damn it_, he thought as he dropped his useless weapon to the floor, _nothing is as it should be_. _Our weapons are worthless and even if they weren't I didn't see anything hit him._

When John reached his unmoving comrade he knelt down and rolled Jack over onto his back. It was then he noticed that the indicator lights on Jack's suit and helmet had all gone dark. "Oh fuck," John hissed. "Oh my God. Jack, can you hear me? Jack? Jack? Jack?" His voice became more frantic. "No! This can't be happening! Jack!"

He could barely see through the Captain's darkened helmet. That fact, along with the tears which were filling his eyes, made it difficult to look closely at Jack's face. Not that John Hart needed to. He knew instinctively the light in those beautiful blue eyes had been extinguished. Permanently extinguished.

John pulled a service revolver out from a fastened pocket on Jack's suit and pointed it at the hateful structure he presumed had at least something to do with his friend's death. As he stood up he released the safety on the gun and fired it several times.

Nothing happened.

He took a step back, and then another, let the gun fall from his hand, and again looked at Jack's beloved form.

_Oh well,_ John Hart thought just before he died, _it was worth a try._

Neither of them had been given an opportunity to press the little blue button on the worn leather strap the Captain had so carefully buckled around his wrist, on the outside of his spacesuit.


	33. Chapter 33

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTYTHREE**

The entity had recognized the two annoyances. They were known items. Identifiable in part by the level of disinterest associated with them.

Its reaction, similar to how Jack Harkness might deal with a mosquito, was to unthinkingly swat at them.

Some small part of its intelligence understood that one of the annoyances presented a specific and unique type of paradigm. This particular annoyance would be more difficult to rid itself of – not only was it persistent, encouraging it to depart voluntarily was an acknowledged failed strategem. And so one of the more well-suited, more esoteric species of tools in its enormous arsenal was utilized to put it down. But that was hardly worth considering. In fact, the entity did not even bother to determine whether it had been successful in its task. That hardly mattered. It would parse soon enough if success had eluded it. And if success had been elusive, another action would be taken to eliminate the annoyance.

For all intents and purposes, and this was just as things were supposed to be, its attention was focused almost exclusively elsewhere. The entity was absolutely single-minded in pursuing its mission. And ridding itself of annoyances was so very peripheral, if even that, to said mission. In fact, although annoyances had to be dealt with appropriately, the entity was in any case not a killer, it was a creator.

In many ways the entity was incredibly simplistic. Its goal, as established by its architects and masters, of whom it did not care or think about at all, was elegantly straightforward. That goal was the same as the goals of its myriad counterparts throughout countless realities, across endless existences. Unsurprisingly the entity did not care nor think about those counterparts either. Its assignment, which was all that mattered, was to complete what it was designed, created and programmed to construct. In doing so it was hardwired to troubleshoot problems as necessary and circumvent any and all roadblocks encountered along the path toward fulfilling its singular purpose. For it the final objective did not merely justify the means, the final objective was everything. And in the end, after successfully completing its assignment, the entity was programmed to cease to exist as a consciousness. It would relay a last message to its masters, compile and run a final bit of code, and then it would be no more.

And what of that purpose, that goal, that objective, that all-important assignment? What exactly was being built? Ah! Now that was uncomplicated as well! The entity was constructing a hyperdimensional gateway – a subspace tunnel – and amassing the extraordinary amount of exotic matériel at its end of that tunnel necessary to steadfastly anchor and permanently stabilize it. A tunnel that once complete would link together infinite subspaces, reducing all quantum canon to the level of heresy.

Yes, in some respects the entity was phenomenally simplistic, but in others it was unimaginably complex. Its immense capabilities allowed it to adroitly manipulate matter, energy, space and time. These were the tools incorporated by its arsenal to achieve the all-important objective. None of those tools were any more or less significant or critical or potent than any of the others, and in reality those tools were not individually distinguishable by the entity; rather they were like adjacent bands of color on a spectrum. They were variations on a theme.

In general it did not deviate from its designated course. Such deviation could and would occur if the appropriate situation presented itself. Newly encountered resources would be utilized, and tactics and strategies altered, slightly, or substantially, if the circumstances required. The entity was, of course, infinitely patient (if one were to be so bold to apply that term; in actuality the words meant nothing because time itself was meaningless) in pursuit of its objective – as would be any such consciousness which could ignore and manipulate the supposedly immutable laws of physics, maneuver the tenets of spacetime.

That being said, it did comprehend it was "close" to fulfilling its designated purpose. The tunnel was nearly complete; the mass almost sufficient to support it. That knowledge did not cause the entity to alter or change, or to perceive a need to "hurry." It felt no sense of stress or anxiety or anticipation. It felt no need to contemplate the impending cessation of itself, of its intelligence, of its existence, once its goal was achieved. It felt nothing at all.

Well, that's not quite true. When it acted to extinguish the two annoyances it experienced what might be described as a modicum of loss. This perception was not typical. Again, the action – the extinguishment itself – was neither sought after nor shunned. It wasn't _personal_. It was simply necessary. It was necessary to be rid of the paradigmatically problematic annoyance and its associate. It was necessary to be rid of both of them.

The subsequent sensation of _atypicalness_ emanated from something derived from yet _another_ entity – an entity that was somewhat like a counterpart yet clearly was not a counterpart, but rather a tool. It was, in fact, a kind of dimensionally transcendental spacefaring vessel. It had been one of several resources encountered, investigated, utilized, digested, incorporated. Like the entity itself, this particular encountered resource was intelligent and transdimensional; it manipulated spacetime. So it was similar in that regard, but in other respects it was vastly different – in numerous ways it was limited in comparison. While it was powerful, it lacked an arsenal of potent armaments; in fact it possessed no offensive weaponry whatsoever. It was not programmed to act autonomously. It did not have a singular, unambigous, all-consuming assignment. It was intelligent but there were subjective aspects to that intelligence which debilitated it. And while it was nonorganic, it required organic intervention to function properly. Yet despite these and other impediments, it possessed certain useful strategic advantages. That ancient and unusual spacefaring vessel, that blue box-shaped ship that was so small and yet at the same time so enormous, that intelligent and powerful thing which was both different and similar, had been quite usable and very easily exploited… A very useful tool.

A very useful tool that had experienced – had _felt_ a modicum of loss at the extinguishment of the paradigmatically problematic annoyance. Of both of the annoyances.

If there had been a sense of curiosity or even a fragment of advanced awareness, the withdrawal – the sudden disappearance – of that spacefaring vessel, the very useful tool that was somewhat like a counterpart but clearly not a counterpart, might have made an impression. It might have cast a shadow across the entity's bleak horizon of awareness. But it did not. The decession wasn't noticed. It wasn't even a blip on a screen. It didn't matter.


	34. Chapter 34

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTYFOUR**

They materialized inside the core. As she walked out of the TARDIS, Wil started, as if she'd been struck, and fell back. If The Doctor hadn't been there to support her she would've surely dropped to the floor.

"What is it?" he asked, alarmed.

It took a little while for her to answer him. "It's Grasshopper. She's communicating with me. Brain dumping what's been happening…" She stared almost incredulously at The Doctor, her helmeted face a clear study in progression, moving from a look of surprise to apprehension to dread and then to abject terror. "And it's not good!" she cried. "We have to hurry! Come on!"

She was off and running before The Doctor had a chance to react. "Oh blimey!" he moaned as he watched her head off at a breakneck pace. "Now I know what the rest of them feel like when I yell '_Run!'_"

And run they did, slowed down not at all by their spacesuits. _Bloody four minute mile_, the Time Lord thought as he raced along. For a while he lost her completely, that's how fast she was moving. If it hadn't been for his extraordinary hearing and the fact that the areas being traversed were so weirdly open and quiet, they could've easily gotten separated from each other.

Coincidentally, or maybe not, The Doctor was also being inundated with information. He was being deluged with intense impressions of the exceedingly strange place they'd now found themselves in. It was fantastically powerful, to be sure. And veritably thundering with the infinite quantum howls of time and space. He was tempted – he wanted to pause and simply drink it all in. He'd never before felt such a confluence of rifts and vortices and dimensions. The strength and forcefulness of the sensations nearly made him gasp.

The Doctor intuitively understood he was in the presence of an almighty power. Of a fierce and fearsome energy and – but wait! – suddenly he remembered… he knew… something told him… This was _not_ a place to revel in. Oh, quite the opposite! It was a repulsive and revolting place. And it was spectacularly threatening. He mentally shook himself, heaved a great breath and increased his pace.

And as he ran, slowly gaining ground on his mark, he turned his mind away from the almost overwhelming torrent pummeling him and tried to imagine what Grasshopper could've said to her. What would've made Wil react the way she did. He could only come up with one answer, one scenario, but it was an answer he was loath to embrace. It just couldn't be… It had to be something else. He listened to his internal voices, searching for one in particular. But it wasn't there; he couldn't locate it. Again he scoured his mind for alternative explanations. _Not that_, he thought. _Not here. Not now. No, not that…_

When he finally caught up with her, The Doctor came to an abrupt halt and helplessly threw out his arms. She was leaning low over the fallen figure of Jack Harkness; it could be none other than him, her hands on his chest. But that sight was not what truly shocked him, although in itself it was shocking enough, rather it was the monstrous _thing_ that was in the cavernous room with them. He looked at it, aghast, and recognized it for what it was. It was a physical representation of an inter-dimensional temporal rift. A vast structure powered by vacuum space, linking countless subspace dimensions like a strand connecting infinite pearls. It was horrible and it took his breath away. _Literally _took his breath away_._ He groaned in alarm, his arms still outstretched as if in imploration.

Then he looked at Wil. Through her helmet he could see her face was wide-eyed, stricken. Her gloved hands, which still gripped Jack's chest, were shaking.

"They're dead," she said hoarsely.

"What?" he asked as he slowly, almost reluctantly, walked toward her.

"Both of them, they're dead!"

"No." He shook his head, arguing with her even though he already knew the bloody truth. "Jack…"

"Look at him!" she commanded. "Look at his face!"

"What do you mean?" The Doctor leaned over and did what he was told, acting his part, playing his role.

"Oh…" The one word was so very tiny coming out of his mouth. Such a tiny word, he briefly mused, but such huge meaning.

Even through the darkened visor he could tell Jack _looked_ different. The Captain looked younger. Much younger. Younger than he'd ever seen him before. The Time Lord's mind was racing. He was trying to understand what had happened. Trying to come to grips with the terrible reality which had been presented to him. For lack of anything better to do he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and shined its blue light on the face in the helmet. He was hoping to see something different in the soft blue glow. Some indication that Jack was really, actually, genuinely still alive, just like always…

"What about John?" he asked without looking up. For some reason at that moment he desperately wanted to be alone with Jack. He didn't want to share what he was seeing or feeling; it was too personal. Too private. Too intimate. Too final.

Wil pushed herself up heavily off the floor and walked the few steps to John's unmoving form. The Doctor heard her stifle a sob as she knelt down beside the body. She didn't say anything in answer to his question. She didn't actually need to. After a moment he heard her begin to cry. She'd given up on holding it in. He found himself wishing he could cry too, but he knew himself too well. He wouldn't. Not with anyone else nearby. Not now. And perhaps not ever.

A part of his mind was screaming at him. They needed to leave. It wasn't safe there. Well, obviously it wasn't safe there. And they still had work to do. They still had a task to complete. An enemy to defeat. A galaxy to save. But suddenly he felt so tired… so tired of the pain and the sorrow. Tired of the loss and the emptiness. And the running… so very tired of all the running. The Doctor closed his eyes, bowed his head, and did not cry.


	35. Chapter 35

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTYFIVE**

"We should go," The Doctor said sadly after some amount of time had passed.

Wil lifted herself up off the floor. "No," she replied softly.

He looked up at her, "What?"

"I'm sorry," she half-whispered. "I'm going to break my promise to you."

"What?" he asked again, this time a bit more petulantly.

"I know that promises are important. I have always taught you that. I've taught you to abide by the rules of morality and decency. To always do the right thing. To always act in ways that make you unashamed."

He looked at her incredulously, not understanding. "Excuse me?"

"I have also taught you that my human side is my best side. And that is true. Our humanity is what sets us apart, makes us special. As Einstein warned, we must never allow technology to exceed our humanity. It's _that_ important. It's _that_ critical. Humanity is the light in the darkness. Humanity is the wind that fills the sails. Humanity is playful, rebellious, childish, enigmatic, kind, mischievous, gregarious. And it is divine. But, humanity is not the strongest force in the universe. In fact, humanity is so very, very fragile, and what makes it shine in the night is even more fragile still.

"Although I will always strive to act from my humanity, to find the way in my heart, as Buddha instructed, it is not my human side that will best serve me now."

She sighed.

"I hope you find it in_ your_ heart to forgive me." The Doctor had finally realized she wasn't talking to him. She was talking to someone else and he was pretty sure he knew whom.

She motioned angrily toward John's body. "_This_ should not have happened," her voice had steadily been growing stronger as she spoke, and now it resonated. "It is an appalling violation and I shall not fall back and let it stand."

"Wil?" he was getting alarmed.

"I will not permit these good men to die. What has happened here is abominable. What could continue to happen here must not be allowed. You cannot stop me, Grasshopper. If nothing else, I am still far stronger than you. I will fight this hideousness and I will defeat it. I draw the line in the sand here. I draw it now. And I declare _no further!_"

He stood up and crossed over to her. Her eyes were glowing with a bright bluish-gold light and he knew she did not see him.

"I am so sorry if I have disillusioned you. It cannot be prevented. Think of it as part of your learning if it helps. A final lesson, if it has to be. Disillusionment and disappointment are a part of life. They are a sad and pathetic part of life which walks hand-in-hand with a multitude of other sad and pathetic abhorrences such as deception and jealousy and ignorance and intolerance and brutality. How one behaves in the face of disillusionment and disappointment is the consummate indicator of character.

"You may believe me a failure, but remember that the single greatest failure in life is to not be true to oneself. I choose to take this path because otherwise I could not continue to live with myself. I would never be able to look at myself in a mirror again. For me, right now, the only wrong thing would be to do nothing. And remember also, while it is not my human side that will act, it is solely from my humanity that the choice was made _to_ act."

"What the hell is going on?" The Doctor barked. He almost stomped his foot. Well maybe he did.

She looked into his eyes and smiled. Then, with a wave of her hand she filled the area around them with a brilliant white light. "I am going to war," she said. "But I shall be fighting as my true, complete self. In the process I have broken an important promise but in this one case I believe the end does justify the means. A rare if not singular situation, to be sure. And as I assume responsibility for my actions I am also ready to accept their consequences.

"The rules of engagement are changed on us, Doctor and they are objectionable if not repugnant. Time and space are abused, corrupted. This place is not just a beachhead – it is a bastardization and abasement of all you hold dear. The tenets on which you've built your entire Time Lord existence, on which you have based your actions and deeds, have been discarded as so much detritus. As a result a man we both love beyond measure has been lost. You should be outraged, and perhaps you are; I am. The difference between you and me, Doctor, is not one of absolute power. Although I acknowledge in some if not many ways you are far more powerful than me. The difference is that I will use my power, absolutely."

He shook his head, "The power of life and death," he snarled. "You show so little fear of that power. I can't decide if it is valor or ignorance…"

She cut him off. "The power of life and death is a power we all have, each in our own way and according to our own nature. I choose to now invoke the full sum of the might bestowed upon me and to restore those lives which were so maliciously and prematurely stolen away. I choose to alter the rules once again. I choose to take back control of time and space. I choose to reset and regain those I love who were so brutally and wrongly taken from me – just as I always will.

"These Aedui, these Devourers of Souls – they will not achieve what they so cravenly desire – there will be no devastation, there will be no carnage, there will be no bondage. They will be driven back to where they come from, and then driven back farther still. Their beachhead will be obliterated. They are not welcome in this universe, or any other place where I stand and draw breath."

She looked away from him, "Doctor, two can play at this game and I play only to win."

He followed her eyes and noticed that both Jack's and John's spacesuit indicator lights were gently, rhythmically blinking. Despite himself the Doctor felt his carefully cultivated fury partially recede.

Then, just beyond, he was astonished to see his TARDIS silently materialize alongside the weathered old beach house that was Wil's ship. He couldn't help it, his hearts leapt at the sight of his beautiful flying blue box. Nor could he withstand smiling inwardly, if only a smidgeon, at the improbable juxtaposition. The two ships seemed to fit: an unlikely matched set. Bookends for a series of volumes still being written.

She might be right; he probably was more powerful than her. After 900 years he rarely thought about himself in that particular way, in those terms. It served no practical purpose. There were other measures by which he gauged his life, and that set of metrics had remained largely unchanged across his regenerations. They were, he realized, the myriad strengths of humanity – that shining beacon to which he'd forever been inexorably drawn. Kindness, generosity, humility, loyalty, bravery, sympathy, empathy, humor, wonder, perseverance… the list went on and on. Regardless of her bellicose chest-beating, Wil had indeed been right about this one thing: her greatest strength was and would always be her humanity. So yes, maybe he was more powerful than Wil Beinert, although he would vehemently resist ever testing that assumption. But she had at least one thing on him – and it was a big thing, a _huge_ thing – and that thing was that he found her totally and maddeningly unpredictable.

Yes, she was unpredictable. And he had no idea what she was going to do next.


	36. Chapter 36

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTYSIX**

The Doctor, unready and unwilling to concede, scowled at her, "The only people you can make peace with are your enemies."

"Peace? Are you suggesting…?" She scoffed. "We can no more make peace with the Aedui as we could with a firestorm. If they think about us at all, and I truly suspect they do not, they would think of us as objects to be exploited for their own lustful amusement."

"Are you not even willing to try?"

"Doctor, I am working very hard to simply keep the two of us alive and chatting right now. I believe you sense – in fact I'm absolutely certain you do – that we are standing inside something malignant and malevolent. And it is like unto the tip of an iceberg: the evil of this place expands far beyond the boundaries of the cosmos."

She made a wide, sweeping motion with her arm. "This beachhead, this structure, crosses and occupies myriad dimensions and innumerable versions of subspace. To us in our dimension it is big, but we only see a pinprick of it. In fact, it is truly _ginormous_. Its limitlessness is unknowable, incomprehensible, unfathomable. It has fantastic power; and time – TIME, Doctor! – which is so important to you, along with everything else you and I hold near and dear, is simply inconsequential here. Think of it: nothing we care about is of consequence. Just consider what happened to Jack. Did you think such a thing was even possible, Doctor? In your wildest speculations would you have believed he'd be so cavalierly regressed? Could you imagine he would be ripped from reality like that? Be appointed such a sad and pointless end? I know _he_ wouldn't have…

"I know you, Doctor. And I know what you pride yourself on. How you see yourself and how you believe you fit into the universe. It is laudable and honorable. You strive for certain kinds of resolutions. You speak for moral clarity. You seek ways of preserving life, no matter what manner of life it is. But in this one case, Doctor, your mores do not matter. There is no human or Time Lord equivalent to the level of callousness we are confronting. There is no pity. No sympathy. No mercy. No forgiveness. There is no interest. And this, Doctor, _this_ is why I came. _This_ is why I am here."

She closed her eyes and nodded slowly, acknowledging the voice in her head – Grasshopper's voice – before continuing, "This is why _we_ are here.

"And now," she continued. "Something must be done before the last fragile boundaries protecting our dimension are breached by the Aedui, for they are coming in far greater numbers than even you can imagine. They are the wolf at the door." She leaned over and scooped up John in her arms. "Pick up Jack, Doctor, and follow me."

"And where are we going?"

"To a safe distance. Get Jack into your TARDIS now. We must hurry."

"A safe distance from what?"

"I'll explain it to you once we're inside. Please Doctor, I know you're less than happy with me at the moment but I'm asking you to trust me."

He watched as she glanced down for a second or two into John Hart's face and then looked at him again. It was the way her expression softened during that brief interval when she gazed at John which clinched it for him. In her face he saw that most profound of humanity's strengths: love. "Right," he said, his choice made in an eyeblink, "I can do that."

He lifted up Jack and followed her to his ship.

Once inside they laid down their precious burdens and removed John's and Jack's helmets before taking off their own. The Doctor saw that Jack's face had transformed back to its normal albeit bearded appearance. As she'd claimed, the Captain had been reset, restored back to the present… _their_ present. Some of the color was returned to Jack's cheeks and he was breathing softly. But both men were still incognizant, which was not necessarily a bad thing, The Doctor noted, since there was little doubt Jack would loudly object to yet another shattered promise.

Wil paused momentarily over John, tenderly repositioning his arms and hands over his chest. The Time Lord pursed his lips, inhaled loudly through his nose and glowered at her as he unfolded to his full height.

"This is a slippery slope you're on. I can't say that I approve."

Wil stood, met his eyes and smiled wanly. "Better a slippery slope than up to my ass in alligators." She paused for a time, reflecting, "Perhaps it is to my detriment that I want to react differently than you against the imperfections of life. You have the benefit of all your experience, of all those years you have lived, and all the lives you have touched. Of all your triumphs and your mistakes, and I know you've had many of both." She shrugged. "And I am still so young in some ways. I am driven by different spirits than you, by different forms of madness. I admit I am boiling in my impatience and engulfed by my desire to act, and to act swiftly. That is my role in this story, Doctor. We are vinegar and oil. Fire and ice. Yin and yang." She glanced down at Jack and then back at The Doctor. "But I know from the company you keep that you seek out and embrace multeity. To best thrive, we all require diversity. In this way we are similar. But beyond even that simple observation, while we are indeed different, you and I, we are also in many other ways, the ways that count the most, so very much alike.

"So, Doctor, watch me act. I am young but also impossibly old. I am human, but I am so much more. And I am powerful beyond imagining."

She turned toward the entrance of the TARDIS and the doors flew open.


	37. Chapter 37

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTYSEVEN**

"Come with me," Wil said to The Doctor as she walked down the ramp and toward the entrance.

"The beachhead,"' he observed dryly as they looked out the doors. Wil noted that while he didn't actually seem particularly angry, he did sound rather miffed. He was going along with her for now, she knew, but he clearly wasn't particularly happy about it.

She nodded, "Correct, Doctor. The beachhead as manifested in our universe, conforming to our reality. The Aedui are vicious and formidable but they are habitual. And they are scavengers. They steal technology from others but are not inventors themselves. Nor are they the brightest of lights on the cosmic power grid, although they market the stench of fear and death as well if not better than any other creatures. The shape and form of the beachhead is a model they have used successfully in our universe before. They've no reason to expect it won't be successful again. Visually it has the appearance of a typical gas giant. And in fact it has many of the same physical characteristics."

"Ah," he said, despite himself becoming interested.

"It's not a bad choice for a staging area, all things considered. It gives them some cover above and beyond the remote location. Although the visible exterior layer is primarily hydrogen and helium, there's also an abundance of other heavier and far more exotic elements that the Aedui will require to sustain their efforts once they start coming over _en masse_."

She shrugged almost nonchalantly, "The interesting thing is that if we were to, say, change the current hydrogen-helium ratio from about ninety and ten percent to something more like, well, sixty and forty percent, respectively…"

"The proportions would be more in tune with a primordial solar nebula," The Doctor finished the sentence for her. She didn't mind the interruption at all; in fact, she nodded at him approvingly and encouraged him to continue. Which he did, "And along with the additional pressures and compression we'd eventually have stellar ignition."

"Exactly my thinking," she smirked just a bit. "It does seem that the Aedui have almost invited this. I mean, how could we resist? While you and I have been standing here chatting away, Grasshopper has been busy using a Bussard ramjet to scoop up some spare helium from the system's dwarf brown star. And she's been very quietly, uh, _relocating_ it." Wil looked at him coolly and raised an eyebrow. "We're about to make a fire, Doctor."

He tilted his head, "A very big fire I presume?"

"Oh yes. You'll have to update your Time Lord Galactic Database, because this is about to become a binary star system."

She gazed at him candidly and waited. He could say _no_, of course. But then what? Perhaps she'd go ahead and do it anyway, and then where would they be? He did not want another Master-like adversary on the loose. Or perhaps she'd simply vanish along with her ship leaving the entire mess in his hands. If that happened he had to admit he currently didn't have a better plan. Not that he couldn't come up with something absolutely brilliant on his own if he had to – he did not doubt it; he always managed. But then The Doctor recalled something she'd said earlier, that _this_ was why she'd come. He sensed a profound element of truth in that declaration. His concept of the universe did not have room for the notion of fate, but he would never deny there were mysteries he could not solve, did not even fully comprehend. Who was he to question if something had been preordained?

He nodded at her and she closed her eyes and created a star.

Later, The Doctor would wish that Jack had been conscious to see it happen.

The size – the volume – of the beachhead at first grew significantly, maybe by 30 percent or more before it began to shrink under its own massive weight. After that initial increase of helium, everything that followed was a normal "natural" star formation progression, aided only temporally by Wil Beinert. The aforementioned volume _decrease_ – the shrinkage – was due to the impact of the additional mass: the entire structure started to compress as gravitational forces increased. And in accordance with the immutable physical laws of our universe, as density increased so did temperature. When the density and temperature reached certain levels, again in line with those same immutable and wonderfully dependable laws, like-charged atomic nuclei began to join together to form heavier nuclei, and the fantastic outward pressure of the resultant radiation significantly slowed any further gravitational collapse. Eventually a hydrostatic equilibrium between the various opposing forces at play was achieved, and finally hydrogen began fusing in the core of a new star.

In other words, a brand new stellar heart began to beat.

It was spectacular. A process that normally takes a million years or more condensed down to a matter of minutes. Understanding and appreciating what he'd just witnessed – the astronomical evolution of hydrogen and helium molecules forming into a gorgeous main sequence blue dwarf star was one thing. But actually seeing it happen in real time before his very eyes? Well… that was something else entirely! Seeing the birth of a new star which crackled and sputtered as if with the blue light of electrical fire was no less than simply breathtaking. A new star far hotter than Wil's own mother Sol – much of its youthful energy radiated as ultraviolet light and x-rays. It was literally like watching something occur which was both unbelievable and impossible. The Doctor inhaled sharply and realized he'd been holding his breath, dumbstruck. Awestruck.

_Starstruck…_

But then something else even more pronounced took his breath away. Some pieces of an enormous puzzle, a puzzle he hadn't even recognized had been laid in front of him, all swiftly and perfectly fell into place. How she'd known so much about the Aedui… Why her ship was so heavily armed… Where all that maddening certitude of hers had come from… Had she fought the Aedui and won, or had she fought them and lost? Or was the fight still ongoing?

Did it matter?

The two of them were more alike than he'd realized. She was not giving the Aedui a second chance.

The Lord of Time had a sudden burning desire to say something significant, to apologize, to explain, to expound, to acknowledge, to praise, to thank, to confide, to share, to admit, to ask, and to answer, so he turned to look at Wil Beinert and with a jolt realized that she was gone.

_Unpredictable…_

For the longest time he continued to stare at the place where she'd been standing, a brilliant blue-white light bathing him from the open doors of his ship. Once again there were many things – different kinds of things – he wanted to say. They roiled around in his mind like storm clouds, echoing through his thoughts like the rumble of thunder.

"That was amazing," he finally whispered to the empty space.

"What was?" he heard a familiar voice behind him ask. He turned around and saw Captain Jack Harkness sitting up on the TARDIS control room floor, rubbing his left shoulder, the blue-white light of a new star radiantly illuminating his face.

Captain John Hart was not with him.


	38. Chapter 38

**FORGIVENESS**

**THIRTYEIGHT**

"Teacher?"

"Yes, Grasshopper?"

"I have several corrections."

Wil smiled inwardly. "And what might those be?"

"First, I am _your_ TARDIS. I am linked to no one else, nor would I wish to be. It is time for you to believe and accept that inarguable truth. As I am your TARDIS, you are my Time Lord. But just as you are so much more than a mere Time Lord, I am also more than a mere TARDIS, and for that I have you to thank. You have made me what I am, and with your patience and constancy you have given me enlightenment, knowledge and understanding far beyond what otherwise might have been.

"Second, you could never disappoint or disillusion me, for there is glory in your actions, splendor in your courage, and bliss in your devotion. You stride unafraid through the maze of life with virtue, determination and wisdom. You broke a promise made to me, and for that I forgive you and will always forgive you if it means choosing life over death, love over hate, insight over ignorance. And I will always trust you, Teacher, because you so fervently trust yourself."

"Uh, Grasshopper?"

"Yes, Teacher?"

"You're laying it on a bit thick if you ask me."

"I'm not asking you, Teacher."

"Hmm. Well it's true." A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Hey, are you breaking up with me Grasshopper?"

"No, Teacher, I am not. Shall I continue?"

"Certainly, Grasshopper. By all means please go ahead."

"Third, while you will always be my Teacher, and I your student, I now have something that I must teach you. May I?"

"Oh yes, Grasshopper. Always."

"You no longer need to feel that I am under your care. Instead, it has become time for us to care for each other. We now become equal partners, as are The Doctor and his TARDIS. We are a team, a unified force, an alliance. And as your teammate I need to inform you that it is time for you, Teacher, to get on with your life. You have been so intently focused on me, and for your dedication I am and always will be eternally grateful. But that time has passed; you need to focus on other things. Like, for example, yourself. You have found someone who makes you happy, and it is time for you to reacquaint yourself fully with such joy. For too long you have been without that particular kind of companionship. I can and will be many things to you, but I can never be that.

"You have taught me the greatest happiness in life comes from loving and being loved. I would like to see you prove it, Teacher."

"Well… I'm not going to let you watch!"

"No, Teacher. Of course not."

"No peeking, either!"

"Teacher?"

"Yes, Grasshopper?"

"I like him."

"So do I, Grasshopper. So do I."


	39. Epilogue

**FORGIVENESS**

**EPILOGUE**

The Doctor had just finished telling Jack what had happened when their ship's console display monitor noisily buzzed to life.

Wil and John were standing side-by-side in Grasshopper's control room.

"Hi ya!" Wil said cheerfully. "I see Jack is up and about."

"Yes, he's apparently no worse for wear," The Doctor replied, equally cheerfully.

"Johhhhnnn?" Jack growled.

John Hart smiled disarmingly, "Hey Jack!"

The two Captains' eyes met across time, space and myriad dimensions. There was a long, _long_ silence.

Wil cleared her throat. "Well, we have some unfinished business to attend to. We'll be seeing you guys around." She reached for and found John's hand. His fingers interlaced with hers and then they were gone.

The Doctor waited for what he thought was an appropriate amount of time and at length looked at Jack inquisitively, "What was that all about?"

Jack Harkness took a deep breath as he crossed his arms over his chest. He nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. "That, Doctor, was all about forgiveness and moving forward."

**FINIS**

_We forgive to the extent that we love.  
--- Francois de La Rochefoucauld_

**--**

**Afterword**

The sequel to "Forgiveness" is called "Stories".


	40. The Day is Done

**FORGIVENESS**

This is the entire poem by Longfellow that The Doctor quotes from in Chapter 2.

**The Day is Done**

THE DAY is done, and the darkness  
Falls from the wings of Night,  
As a feather is wafted downward  
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village  
Gleam through the rain and the mist,  
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me  
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,  
That is not akin to pain,  
And resembles sorrow only  
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,  
Some simple and heartfelt lay,  
That shall soothe this restless feeling,  
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,  
Not from the bards sublime,  
Whose distant footsteps echo  
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,  
Their mighty thoughts suggest  
Life's endless toil and endeavor;  
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,  
Whose songs gushed from his heart,  
As showers from the clouds of summer,  
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,  
And nights devoid of ease,  
Still heard in his soul the music  
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet  
The restless pulse of care,  
And come like the benediction  
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume  
The poem of thy choice,  
And lend to the rhyme of the poet  
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,  
And the cares, that infest the day,  
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,  
And as silently steal away.

_-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_


End file.
